Symbolism: A stalker searching for his lover from the past, only to find out he's the only one who remembers, but he'll work with it.
Players; Brian Thomas
Warnings: Stalking, yandere! Brian, a bit of oblivious reader here and there, MDNI, Obsessive behaviors, In every part of this series, there will be 1-3 days of Brian stalking reader in it, Have a nice read :(
PT1
DAY 1
Day 2
Day 3
Taglist; @jutulamafjord (Ask to be added to the Taglist!)
Hi! First of all, I wanted to say I love the way you write—I’m absolutely in love with your fanfics. Secondly, I really hope I don't make you uncomfortable with this suggestion 😅, but it’s been nagging at me for days. I was thinking about a scenario where Tim and Brian have a girlfriend who ends up pregnant, but they don't react very well to the news. Maybe there could be a little argument—some mild angst, perhaps?—but with a cute ending? I know that sounds totally weird, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it. (Fun fact: when a woman has two husbands and finds out she's having twins, there's a small chance the babies could have different fathers—obviously, it depends on the nature of the sexual encounters.) Anyway, sorry to bother you, but if you do end up writing this crazy idea, I’d be so grateful. Take care! 🙂🙂
My first request! Im sorry this took so long, i don't think it's weird at all. Hopefully this meets expectations :D
2.3k
Brim x preg fem reader, reader gets shit done, mention of sex, Masky and Hoodie technically break into readers home, slight angst?, this is my first angst fic, a small attempt at humor
Your leg bounces, this is the 4th time. You’ve already gotten your answer from the first 3, but sometimes at-home tests can be false. So in reality, you’re just being thorough.
Your eyes track the slow hands of the clock that hangs on the wall. As the seconds pass, your heart gets tighter. The bouncing of your leg gets violent for a second before you plant the bottom on your foot to the ground.
If it is true, real, then what are you going to do? Ignore it? Celebrate? Panic? It’s not like this will change anything right away… Objectively speaking. You have money, healthy relationships, a job, and while you may be over-worked sometimes, you do get paid decently –
90 seconds. Two thin lines appear on the test.
Oh god it’s real. You're pregnant.
A hand curls around your stomach. A baby. Tears start lining your eyes, emotions hard to define. Sniffling, you throw the test in the trash with the others. Turning the faucet on, you wash your hands and splash water on your face.
Do you want to be a mother? Are you ready for that? Your life would change drastically, never to really be the same. You’ve had pets in the past, but this isn’t a pet. This thing needs to grow into a functional member of society.
It’s not like you’ll be alone, you have Tim and Brian. The three of you have been together for years, you don't need to figure this out on your own. All you need to do is tell them, that’s the first step.
—-
Tim slams the truck door behind him, stalking to the front door before Brian can tell him off.
The mission didn’t go very well. The plan became derailed rather quickly, as well as every plan after that one. The truck is missing a headlight, much to Brian's heartbreak. The ride back home was tense and silent. Tim and Brian were close, but sometimes, they wanted to kill each other.
You’re sitting in the living room, gnawing on your nail as you watch whatever reality show was on. There’s nothing left to do but sit and wait. Turns out you can be productive if it means distracting yourself. The whole house is clean, the laundry done, the craft-project that’s been on the side for months is finished, and dinner is made.
You look as the lock on the front door is turned, Tim swinging it open with a little too much force. Your heart jumps back into your mouth, choking you as you try to greet him.
Tim hums in response, already walking to the kitchen. Brian strides in right after, closing the door behind him.
“Hey Dolly.” He sounds tired, and put-out, walking over to the couch and bending down to kiss you. “How was your day?”
Smiling, you watch as he stands back up. “good.”
He smiles back, then turns to the kitchen. You reach out and grab his hand before he can leave.
“Actually, I need to talk to you guys about something.” Brian looks down at your hand, tilting his head slightly as his eyebrow raises. Swallowing, you call for Tim, “Can you come back in here?”
Tim walks back to the edge of the living room, a hand running down his face. “Can it wait? We just got home.”
Okay that’s a little disheartening. “I’d rather do it now.” You look down, glancing up at him. “Please.”
He looks at you, a tired and annoyed expression rooted on his face. With a sigh, he caves, walking over to stand closer to your position on the couch.
No one says anything for a moment. They’re waiting on you, while you’re just trying to figure out how speech works again. How should you do it? If you were funny you would have gotten them a card or something. Do you just throw it out there? Lead up to it?
“I’m pregnant.”
…
“Fuckin’ hell.” Tim reaches for his pocket, pulling out a beat up pack of cigarettes.
Brian just looks at you, his expression unreadable. The small smile that was there is gone, whether taken by shock or something else, you don’t know.
Your free hand subconsciously goes to hold your stomach, nerves pulling your muscles tight and tense. You don’t know how you expected them to react, but not like this.
Tim takes a long drag, the obnoxious smell of the smoke insults your nose more than usual. “How’d this happen?”
Your hand tightens on Brian's, somewhere in your brain you note that his grip is completely loose.
“I think we all know how-”
“Not that! You said you were on birth control, that it was safe. That we wouldn’t need to deal with…” His loud voice trails off, his eyes looking down at your stomach.
You let go of Brians hand, anger taking over nerves.
“Birth control isn’t 100% Tim! And if memory serves, you were the one who wanted to fuck me raw in the first place.”
Tim doesn’t say anything, just taking another drag as he scowls. He’s tapping his foot, trying to let off energy.
“Are you keepin’ it?” Brians voice is smaller, more gentle than Tims, but there’s an edge to it.
You look back up at him, his expression is still frustratingly neutral. “I… don’t know.”
Tim scoffs, striding past the two of you, wretching the front door open. “I’m not dealin’ with this.” Before your heart can drop, Brian moves to follow him. A broken sound that echoes what might have been his name leaves you.
The door closes with a thud. There’s an awful high-pitch ring in your ears as you sit and stare. That was it? Years together suddenly meaning nothing? Just because- you look down, a hand still splayed over your stomach.
Tears spill over your cheeks, dripping off your chin. You lay down, burying your face in one of the many couch pillows.
—-
You wake up the next morning, still on the couch. Ugh, your head hurts, tears are lining your eyes again. Damn, can’t even get a moment.
Walking to the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine, you glance at what was meant to be last nights dinner. One of the bowls you had set out is filled with cold food. Tims doing before you called him back to the living room.
Taking some aspirin with your first gulp of caffeine, you walk back into the living room. Eyes landing on the front door, still unlocked.
Anger starts leading your thoughts.
How dare they? You’ve put up with all their bullshit over the years, but they’re ‘not dealing with this’? Fine. You don’t need them. They were a want, you wanted them in your life. And now, you don’t. It’s that simple.
Where’s your phone? You need to make some calls. ...
---
Your bedroom has two twin windows, the bed in the middle of them. The room is still tidy and neat from your cleaning spree yesterday. It’s dark outside now, but the orange light from the streetlamp just across the yard leaks in.
You fall onto your bed, trying to let the heavy feeling in your chest fall out. It doesn’t, just remaining as a dull ache. Your hand raises, rubbing your throbbing temple. The day had gone by slowly, almost horrifically normal. You went to work, had lunch with your friends, got stuck in traffic. Thankfully, the locksmith was able to come by and replace all of the locks, you even paid extra to have the window locks updated. It had taken a good chunk of money but it’s better that it was done quickly. Your boyfri-... ex-boyfriends, had a tendency to be rather difficult to keep out.
Sitting up, you stare at the orange light on the floor. Thoughts are silent, a good thing too. You feel too raw, too sensitive. A shadow rises along the floor, you look at the window. A gloved hand is trying to jerk the lock open, a thin knife wedged between the window panes. Speak of the devil.
You roll to the other side of the bed, standing up and opening the other window. Peaking outside, the frowny face of Hoodie snaps to you. He’s holding onto the window seal, his arm slightly shaking as he keeps himself up. Masky is standing on the ground below, staring up at the both of you.
The world seems so still, silent. The fog has already set in, thick and making the street light appear hazy. It feels like this is all there is, a little bubble with just the three of you.
Masky sighs, lifting his mask to put a cigarette on his lip. “We just wanted to talk.”
“And you couldn’t knock on the door?”
“Would you have let us in?” Fair point, the answer would probably be a resounding no. “It sure didn't take you very long to change the locks.”
The audacity pierces your chest, righteous fury filling your gut. “You’re the ones that left!” In the corner of your eye, Hoodie is still trying to open the window. You snap at him. “That one doesn’t open.”
“We weren’t even gone a full 24 hours.”
“You left!” Tears start to choke you. No one moves for a moment, everyone just staring at each other. Hoodie re-adjusts his grip on the seal, getting ready to make the jump to grab the one under you. “I tell you I’m pregnant and you left, both of you!”
Hoodie jumps and grabs onto the seal beneath you as you slam the window shut, locking it tightly. Quickly, you walk around your bed and open the other window.
“You said that one doesn’t open!”
“And now, that one doesn’t open.”
Hoodie lets out an exaggerated huff, his shoulders sinking into his form before slowly climbing back to the ground. He doesn’t want to try jumping to your window again, the game would only tire him out for nothing.
Tim sighs from his place on the ground, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks up at you. “You’re not makin’ this any easier Sug.”
“Why should I?”
Neither man says anything. What would you even like to hear? What could be said to undo the hurt of the last few hours? You choke tears back down, you don’t want to be any kind of vulnerable right now.
Hoodie takes the ski-mask off his head, his expression is calm but his eyebrows are slightly pinched. “We didn’t mean to walk out like that. We were frustrated- it had nothin’ to do with you.”
You cross your arms, looking down on both of them. Nothing to do with you your ass. Speech has left you. You fear that if you try, your voice will just embarrassingly crack.
Brian tilts his head at your lack of a response. He stares up at you, brows furrowing as the seconds tick by. “Dolly, do you really think we were leavin’ you?”
A mock laugh leaves your throat. “How else am I meant to interpret ‘I'm not dealing with this’?” You hold onto the smile, if you stop you’re gonna start crying again.
They both look at you, then at each other.
Heat is crawling up your spine, then swallowing your face. God you hate the feeling. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, anything to keep a straight face. Anything to keep tears from falling.
You slam the window shut, slapping the lock and throwing the curtains in place. You’re done with this. If they can leave in the middle of a conversation, then so can you. It’s only fair.
Crawling back on your bed, you hide under the covers, your head beneath your pillow. You cry, sounds slightly muffled from the bedding. Unfortunately, it also prevents you from hearing the lock snap open and window roll up.
A weight dips your bed, large hands lightly place themselves on your back, rubbing circles. You groan, gripping your pillow tighter before snapping up and seeing Tim. Damn them both. Pulling your legs under you, you twist and hit him with your rumpled pillow.
“You are such a piece of shit!”
Tim lets you hit him a few more times, each hit causing some static in his hair. You look for Brian, throwing your pillow at him as he closes the window.
Hands cup your cheeks, fingers brushing away the tear streaks as Tim guides you to look at him. Brown eyes looking into yours, “I’m sorry sug.”
You don't want to look at him. His big, wet, brown eyes are too much. You want to be angry, you have a right to be angry. Lips lightly trace over your face, giving gentle kisses to your eyelids and cheeks. “Was thinkin’ straight outta my ass.”
Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, his jacket is still chilled from the night air. Nuzzling your face into his warm palm as you hiccup a laugh, agreeing with him.
The bed dips on the other side as Brian joins the two of you, ducking his head to kiss your shoulder. He’s already ditched the hoodie, leaving it crumpled on the floor. His thin mustache tickles your skin. “You’re stuck with us Dolly.” Settling against the headboard, Brian wraps his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you back to lay on him, tucking his face into your hair.
Tim sheds his jacket, tossing it aside and laying his weight down as he sandwiches you between the two of them. He kisses his way down, stopping at your stomach, nuzzling his face. His hands come to hold your waist, wrapping his arms around your form.
Your hand comes up to pet his dark hair. You’ll need to talk about it, of course. But for now, this was good.
I really like the idea that Hoodie is still using videotapes to store his recordings, something many people have stopped doing.
So imagine getting home one day, and there’s a small box sitting on the doormat. You didn’t order anything, so it’s probably a mistake, but you pick it up anyway.
There’s no label, no address. Lifting the lid reveals a familiar plastic block, a clear portion of the plastic is stripped down one side.
Another VHS tape.
With a small huff, curiosity now satisfied, you place the lid back on. You toss the box on the table with the rest. You’re torn between throwing them out or buying a VHS player, but ultimately choose to focus on something else.
Meanwhile Hoodie is watching through binoculars, getting more and more upset that you’re ignoring him.
