You’re So Cruel, And You’re So Vicious (but my goodness, you’re so delicious)
fem!reader x danny johnson|ghostface
18+ | dead dove | smut | angst | murder
[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4]
But you'd expected that, even finding some sense of comfort in that.
You weren't exactly the type to go all out and dress up in a slutty horror costume, guzzling down cans and cans of beer and whatever shitty drinks the students at your university splurged out on with their mommy and daddy's cash. That wasn't to say you hated that; in fact, the opposite.
You'd have some fun times out during your first year with the friends you made, but socialising with strangers drained you out in day-to-day life, and when drunk, that'd happen tenfold; though after a quick bout of alcohol-induced friendliness.
Knowing that the others in your dormitory were almost definitely going to go crazy with music, alcohol, drugs, and all the things anyone would expect at a party full of hyper young adults with their first taste of freedom, you prepared your noise-cancelling headphones and an iconic slasher series to binge over the night.
That's not where the night failed, however.
All your preparations were for nothing when you forgot what was honestly the most important thing for a solo horror movie binge—the snacks.
There was not a hint of popcorn within sight of your room or even within the sole cabinet you had in the dorm's shared kitchen, and the ice cream you kept stored in the mini-fridge you kept right beside your bed was completely empty.
Trudging out of your room in fluffy patterned pyjamas and equally fluffed-up slippers, you strutted out of the dorm rooms, going straight to the exit door with a disappointed look plastered on your face screaming 'don't even ask' to the drunken friendly people you passed on your way down as they made their path up to your old friend, or well, acquaintance's dorm filled with music and vodka for all to gulp down as they partied.
As you walked away, you found yourself crossing paths with many silly, or sexy, looking costumed students, all drunkenly strolling around with not a care in the world, completely submerged in the joy that Halloween brought to life—the Christmas equivalent for horny young adults, you surmised.
A small part of you was envious.
You'd been submerged in a fog, drifting by in life as if there was a barrier preventing you from taking the time to converse with others, to have fun.
With people beside you, happy to be in your presence, even while drunk and goofing around, the sort to be so, even when you were angry or shutting people out. It felt like you had been born with a shitty draw of hands, in which fate somehow decided you would never have the friendship bond you'd fantasised about.
The inner child in you wanted to desperately emulate the friend groups in all the shows and movies you'd watch alone at home, but you never had the chance.
Or if you did, you had never noticed and shut the people out before it was possible.
The pessimistic thoughts in your mind made you actively decide to speed up, wanting to pick up any snacks chock-full of sugary goodness to alleviate you from this wave of pathetic envy within your mind, and so you hid your gaze from the drunk onlookers and trudged forward, goal firm in your mind.
A quick minute down the road to the local convenience store betting on university students to fund it with their spending, and you were down a few dollars in your bank, leaving with the long-awaited snacks you needed to continue your foray into chilling out and watching the Friday the 13th series; you had only just reached Part 2 and sprinted back with haste, eager to watch on of your favourite movies in the whole franchise, what with you having a little soft spot for Ginny, the final girl of this particular part.
There was a man in a stupid-looking costume beside you in the store.
He was now in front of you as you walked back to the dorms. The black fabric draped on his arms flowed as he moved.
A chill went up your spine.
You realised just how frightening it can be to walk home at night alone, even if it was just a quick 10-minute stroll.
After all, situations like these were perfect for murderers to attack—you'd heard all the alarming stories leading to mutilation or death in the documentaries you'd sometimes binge alone at home, with nothing else on screen to watch and no friends to surround yourself with. Before a bout of disgust and shame came to you.
You felt horrible at the fact that you got even just a little bit of entertainment from discussing the deaths of real people.
The man, no figure, turned with a sharp, swift pace change, and the blood within your body froze in apprehension, only relaxing as you finally breathed, realising the truth of what was happening.
Your paranoia was getting to you.
The spooky season was spooking you out, bringing fear to the forefront of your mind, and that elicited coming to the wrong conclusion.
The figure was no scary murderer, just a costume-ridden guy your age, rushing forward as someone he knew was in sight.
He was now acknowledging him with a fistbump that turned into a one-handed hug, taking his tacky white mask off to greet his surprised friend, while your breath caught up to you, trying to calm down to the anxiety that built up within every inch of your body.
As you glanced back to see the chatting friends, you carried on forward, ready to no longer conjure up thoughts regarding the potential of real killers beside you, but instead, to think and shout at the screen as you watched Jason Voorhees, the fictional killer in most of the Friday the 13th movies slash and stab at other fictional people.
The night sky felt as though it grew darker. It was pitch-black and more menacing than you remembered from the moment you left home, but you knew inside that it was just your mind, as it was too late for it to change further.
Fear was emanating within you, and you had no cause for any of it.
You tried to shake it off, and it was already creeping back up on you like a spider lingering in your bedroom would do, making you feel overly conscious of your surroundings to an almost-erratic seeming degree.
Forcibly planting positive thoughts regarding the movie you were to finish for the millionth time didn’t seem to be helping, despite it being a favourite of yours, so you decided to change tactics.
Now you were thinking about the glorious ice cream in the plastic bag swinging by your side, reminiscing on the taste; it was your favourite flavour, a go-to treat of yours that would always be finished sooner rather than later.
Somehow, that tactic seemed to work and actually sent your irrational anxieties to the back of your mind, just in time for you to reach the main door of your dormitory.
On any typical day, you’d have to press your electric key to the door to enter, yet it was already open. Not only because people, some guys far ahead and two girls much closer by, were already walking right through it, but rather, because somebody deigned to create a doorstop of the caution sign that was once marking the broken elevator on the ground floor and currently pressed up against the door you began to walk through.
You suspected with a firm certainty in your mind that this was the action of your dorm-mate Jenna, who was hosting the absolute behemoth of a party that was going on this night.
The two girls, in both an angel and devil costume respectively, clamoured up the stairs to Jenna’s, giggling and swaying in each other’s arms. A sign of sisterhood; a connection you never gained in this lifetime.
Not only did you never have a strong platonic bond like that, but your romantic life wasn’t looking too good either, just a few awkward kisses in your first year of university that turned to even more awkward oral in the bedrooms of whichever students were renting the designated party house.
Behind them was you, and with a tap on your shoulder, you knew that there was another person, likely also going to the party on the floor above yours.
They had a white plastic mask on, but despite having a frozen facial expression with that dime-a-dozen mask, you could sense this guy had some personality beneath his costume, what with his humorous headtilt, as if questioning you on something.
“You alright, dude?” you said, questioning him back, looking up right into the blank mesh slits of his mask. “Looking for the party, or something?”
His hand was still firm on your shoulder as he nodded incessantly in response. Beneath the tendrils of black fabric, you could make out pale skin; his hands were veiny and large, sending a shiver sharp down your spine, which made you realise you definitely needed to go out sometime soon and hook up with somebody before you go too insane.
Barking an instinctive laugh out in response, you continued on, “I’m sure if you follow those girls, they’ll end up leading you to Jenna’s.”
The costumed man nodded in appreciation before swaying his head back and forth in slight tilts to the left and right.
You had no clue what he meant, but you couldn’t help but want to find out—at least, before you go back inside and relax with your movie and snacks.
A tap on your fluffed-up pyjama-ridden shoulder made you realise what he meant.
He was inquiring after you.
Thinking about you, caring about you.
The acquaintances in your life would never really care for your life outside of the designated spaces you’d interact, like work or university lectures, so this seemingly inconsequential moment hit you hard. It felt sweet, tying your stomach up in knots in the best possible way, making you feel elated, thus letting out a smile in response.
“Asking about me, huh?” you said in a joking tone.
He nodded fervently in response.
“I’m clearly not dressed for any parties,” you replied, gesturing to your get-up, “So, no chance of seeing me at Jenna’s, I’ll be finishing off the slasher film I’m watching.”
His head slanted to the side, holding its position, likely awaiting another response.
“What?” you asked teasingly, “You want to know what movie I’m watching?”
The costumed guy shook his head in response, almost cartoonishly, making you let out an impromptu giggle.
“I know it’s Halloween, so I gotta watch slashers all night,” you began to say, “Though, strangely enough, I’m not watching the Halloween movies, so no Myers and Laurie for me, I’m watching Friday The 13th tonight—reached the second one, right now.”
He pointed to himself, before nodding frantically yet again.
“Oh, you like the series?” you asked.
The man kept up his nodding, and you smiled.
He seemed like quite the funny guy, making a part of your wish that you put yourself out there and went to the party like you had attempted last year; it was too late for that, so you decided to put this talk to a halt, at least before your ice cream melts further.
“Anything, I bet I’m keeping you from Jenna’s party.” You diverted the conversation upon that realisation, recognising that you were holding him up.
“Enough talking about fictional murderers, I bet you wanna get up there and get drunk.”
He seemed to accept your clear sign to call off the conversation, giving one last firm nod before turning away to walk off—though in the exact same direction you would also be going.
Beginning to wander off, you saw the masked guy trail behind you, at least until you reached your dorm, which was when he continued walking, reaching the stairs that would lead to Jenna and the loud partying students surrounding the block of rooms.
Grabbing your keys from the pockets of your hoodie, you quickly unlocked and opened the door to your dorm room, feeling impatient and ready to gorge on your snacks and finish off the movie you hadn’t completed yet.
Slipping your cozy slippers off and away to the corner of your room, you kneeled down to your mini-fridge, praying that the ice cream hadn’t melted too much in the time it took you to reach home.
You shoved the load of blankets on your bed to the side as you snuggled in, laptop in hand as you then placed it on your lap with your snacks on either side of you.
Settling into your bed, you fully immersed yourself in the murderous movie. Watching intently as the horny couple of the movie—as every slasher film had to have—were killed during sex, then switching over to your favourite character.
Ginny. Her and the boss you never cared to remember the name of, had left their comic-relief friend at the bar, heading over to the camp, completely unaware that most of their charges had been murdered there.
Just as they reached the infamous Crystal Lake Camp, another girl was brutally murdered, blood plastered on your too-bright laptop screen, at the hands of Jason Voorhess—though without his iconic hockey mask, the only thing you thought kept people from ranking this movie as the best in the series.
You took a spoonful of the ice cream beside you, lapping it up right as Ginny and her boss explored an empty cabin, finding nothing but bloodsheets, at least, until they found bag-ridden Jason Voorhees ready to grab at them with a vicious fury, rattling the ornaments on the wall as he and the man—Paul, you finally recalled, with the help of Ginny almost obnoxiously screaming it aloud—tussled and fought for control of the tumultous situation.
A part of you lit up as you watched, eyes intent, zooming in on every little moment on the screen.
There was something so captivating about a good ol’ fashioned slasher film.
Rehashed stereotypes in every one of them, but it was striking to you all the same.
The way a story with all the same beats, a horny couple, a loser virgin, a fiery final girl, and an unforgiving murderer could be reimagined—come to life in a new, original way. Human imagination simply loved the simplicity of a story told before, but every single iteration came with a hint of something new—something that spoke to your inner depravity.
People always talked about the inherent goodness of human nature or contrastingly, argued for the inherent evil as the core of mankind regarding traits; you thought otherwise of both ways of thought.
In your eyes, what was most fascinating about humanity was the inherent intrigue lingering inside—the imagination one could hold. It was the curiosity within people that led to such glorious creations and discoveries, such as creating penicillin, electricity, and learning how to fly in the Earth’s blue sky, and it was also what led to some of the most horrid incidents in recorded history.
A simple question asking ‘how does this work?’ led to atrocities such as the many horrifying psychology experiments that deprived people—babies in some cases—of certain things just to see what the result would bring.
It led to the amazing advancements in medicine regarding women, with the three poor slaves known as Anarcha, Betsey, and Lucy used as guinea pigs for the white folk in America to dig into and dissect for the sake of their own women, as they disregarded the lives of those three—and many more; it was in a sick tormenting way one could argue spoke for the ‘inherent evil’ of humanity, but in your eyes, its was all curiosity that spearheaded the atrocities.
No good, no evil, just the natural-born wonder and intrigue of a human that then led to either greatness, evil, or mundanity in some cases.
What you especially liked is how it led to the creation of horror.; intrigue mixed with disgust bringing people to create and explore avenues to create the obscene—in fiction, of course. Though there were always the twisted few in society who had shown their fascination through actually murdering people in a gruesome, gory manner.
As you watched Ginny hit Jason Voorhees with a chair, breaking it into pieces, your eyes lit up at the classic brutality of the slasher film—there was something so great about a horror final girl giving it her all to survive, powering beyond the stereotype of a fragile helpless maiden and beating the shit out of the killer with all the power they held.
While the slasher genre was, in essence, about the stereotypical subsets of people in the world, often within suburbia and the teenage demographic, to you, it was just as much about breaking the mold and bringing people to their breaking point—adrenaline up to the max as they beat the seemingly unstoppable force that was the killer.
You felt yourself beginning to drift off into sleep, right as Ginny tricked Jason into a state of confusion as she pretended to be his mother, before beating at him with his own weapon and running off with her friend Paul. You reckoned in your head that Halloween was technically over, with the day likely passing midnight as you watched the film, and a part of you wondered what was happening in Jenna’s loud party.
In the past hour, you could hear faint shouts and the bass of somebody’s loud speaker seeping through your ceiling all throughout the movie, and it was quite irritating, even with your attention zoned right onto the film.
But it just made you think, as you tucked your confectionery treats away, all about the costumed man who you crossed paths with right before you entered your home.
Your mind focused on that individual; he seemed strangely kind and funny with how he responded to you, with only body language and no actual speaking to you, and you appreciated that small moment—somebody talking to you just for the sake of talking to you, no ulterior motives, just a person spending time with you.
You appreciated even though it was for just a short moment, and as you began to sleep, the figure stayed firm in your mind.
It was a small blip on his radar, you assumed, but it meant quite a bit to your mind, having been so deprived of meaningful interaction for a while, especially with your time in university being so dull and isolating.
Waking up made you immediately feel groggy, with you swiping your eyes in an attempt to make yourself feel awake.
Already, from the slight opening in your curtain, your eyes were bombarded by the morning light, leading you to squint your eyes in annoyance. Now that the slight sunshine woke you up, you decided to get up and ready yourself up for the day, even though you had no lectures anytime soon.
After what felt like a quick moment, you had freshened up for the day, though, decided to keep yourself comfy, slipping into a pair of cozy sweatpants and a random graphic tee, rushing into the kitchen to fix up a glass of hot chocolate, indulging yourself with a sweet drink, just like you did yesterday.
A scream broke into your airspace; it was deafening and screeching, akin to the horror girls in films, with how excruciatingly loud the piercing sound was to your ears.
You quickly found the first pair of slippers you could see, sliding into them as you grabbed your keys, throwing them into the pocket of your sweatpants before rushing out of your dorm to see what was going on, just as a louder scream hit your eardrums.
Right after opening your door, you saw two of your dorm-mates also being nosy and creeping out to see what was going on, your eyes crossing the closest guy, making your eyes cross, before he turned away from you, likely shamed at being caught out for his nosiness, despite the fact that you were acting the same way as him.
You didn’t have to snoop around, crossing your head left and right to figure out what was happening for long because somebody came rushing in.
You immediately recognised them, the bleached blonde hair was a dead giveaway, even in its frazzled state; it was Jenna, your old acquaintance who spearheaded last night’s party.
Mascara was dripping down her glittery face, her eyes looking as though she’d been tortured for decades with how heartwrenching the look plastered on her face was. The way the makeup was stuck on her face made her resemble a weeping panda, but in all honesty, the animal you thought she was most similar to—at least, in this moment—like a bellowing monkey with the way she was screeching in an uncontrollable loud tone.
“J-Jenna?” you said aloud, voice a little croaky, as you tried to gain the attention of the pitiful woman before your eyes. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” She cut you off, voice sounding like the typical snarky nasally tone she usually carried, yet it carried an undertone beneath it that brought an underlying harshness to her words.
“Nothing’s alright,” Jenna sneered, face twisting, yet the atypical meanness was contrasted by the frozen look of fear plastered on her every feature.
Her hands were down by her sides, as if they were screwed onto her; she was motionless after her sprint in your direction, the life and energy seemingly seeped from her. Your eyes flickered back to the dorm-mate of yours who was watching this drama, seeing him pale at Jenna’s grief-stricken look.
“There’s a fucking dead body in my dorm.” Her face had a hollow look to it as she shouted these haunting words. It seemed like what she said had stopped everyone in their tracks, as if life itself had paused, as everyone tried to take in her words.
You were confused. That sort of thing never really happened to people in your circle, yet it seemed that it had. “Someone overdosed during your party, or something—”
Jenna cut you off, fear emanating through her words, “No! Someone was murdered, slashed and all—” Her voice sounded rough, loud, and erratic, only to shift to a quiet, shocked whisper. “There was so much blood there.” She sounded lost, as if her mind was in a different realm, with her voice sounding as if she was far away; this was exacerbated by the haunting stare of her widened eyes.
“Oh, god,” you murmured, sheer disbelief ridden in every syllable you softly spoke, slowly taking in what Jenna mentioned.“T-this can’t be real.”
You didn’t know what to say. Your mind knew that comforting Jenna should be your immediate action, but you were simply at a loss for words. Shock was the only thing you could feel, even as you had Jenna right before your eyes, clearly traumatised and in need of some sort of comfort.
You geared yourself up to say something, only to be cut off by the blaring sound of sirens.
“I-I called the Police,” Jenna brought up as you heard the alarms, “They probably want to speak to me since—since I was the one who discovered Matthew’s body in my bathroom,” she continued, with her voice an unstable mess, and her hands beginning to shake as she came to process what had happened just moments before she crossed paths with you.
“I should go,” Jenna cut you off, hands twisting in fear, “I can’t leave Matthew alone there—it’s too bloody and the officers could slip on—his blood.” Her voice went faint as she seemed to realise what she was saying, or rather, who she was mentioning.
The scene she stumbled onto hungover was likely a messy, traumatising crime scene filled, and the way mentions of blood turned Jenna into a pale, grief-stricken shell of herself made you instinctively know that whatever she saw was even worse and gory than your mind could ever conjure.
A part of you felt shameful.
At the very moment while you were watching a film full of gratuitous murder and blood, somebody right above where you were laying was being brutally killed unbeknownst to you.
You were taking pleasure in watching deaths on screen at the same time that a death was occurring.
Your stomach twisted up, coiling as the embarrassment and distress boiled up inside you. It was disgusting; your mind was screaming at you.
Your insides felt numb, and so did your mind, but you felt even worse at the fact that you were making this awful event all about yourself.
All your mind could think about was how that would affect you. It was such a selfish perspective, yet it was still at the forefront of your mind.
Somehow, you cared more about the sick irony that you were watching a slasher film while somebody was being slashed than the fact that a person was brutally murdered.
You lost yourself in your pessimistic, selfish thoughts, and trudge back on over to your dorm, tip-toeing inside and trying to leave the drama—the murder—from its space in the forefront of your mind.
A part of you still lingered on that incident, even if you wished to leave it behind.
The mix of emotions—shame, intrigue, and disgust—lingered within you, even as you switched a random sitcom show on, trying to distract and dissuade your mind from focusing on the gore and pain of the poor murder that occurred just a floor above you.
