𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 - Jeff the Killer x Fem Reader

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳𝘴 101

(Btw, they are a bit more silly in this fanfic; I tried not to use bad stereotypes! Just trying to cure my writer's block. Enjoy!)

Y/N sat on her bed, scrolling through the Pinterest feed, until she came upon an article talking about creepypasta. She was originally trying to find pictures of her fictional husband—Jeff the Killer.

When the article finally loaded, she was brought to a page about how to summon creepypastas. She knew it was all shits and giggles, because creepypastas aren't real; they're just words and colors on the internet curated by bored people—or horny ones.

"How to summon Jeff the killer." Y/N read from the document. The instructions were quite strange.

1. Go into a dark closet.

2. Put your hands over your eyes.

3. Rock back and forth.

4. Repeat "He's in here with me" three times.

And if that wasn't creepy enough, there was a warning at the bottom of the page, addressing the fact that the writer was not responsible for what happened next.

Lovely. Y/N thought, rolling her eyes at the words on her screen. She turned her phone off and rolled over on her bed, looking at the little Jeff plush she had with a sad face.

If only they were real. If only they would sweep her off her feet and bring her to the mansion with all the others. She would be so happy. But no. She has school. And homework. Gross.

She laid on her back, holding the killer stuffie above her head before tossing it beside her. She sat up, looking around her room boredly before glacing at her desk. The desk had her math homework that was due tomorrow on it.

Was she going to do the homework tonight? No. Hell no. She was going to procrastinate like a mother fucker and turn it in three seconds before it's due.

Y/N got up from her bed, yawning and looking at the time. It was nearly 9:30, and she started school at the butt crack of dawn. She decided not to sleep but instead to go to the closet and summon her favorite creepypasta.

The closet was crowded with things because she refused to clean her room correctly. She sat down despite the fact and kept her knees to her chest. Y/N realized how much the silence lingered in the air, and her gut told her it wasn't a good idea, but what did she have to lose?

Nothing!

Except maybe her life.

But that was besides the point. Lol.

Y/N took a deep breath and pressed her palms to her eyes, swaying back and forth in a trance-like motion.

"He's in here with me; he's in here with me; he's in here with me." She repeated.

She stopped rocking to look up and around her closet. Seeing nothing in the dark, she was filled with a mix of relief and disappointment. She begrudgingly stood up, moping back to her bed and face-planting onto it.

There was the sound of a slam from behind her door. It sounded a little far away. Y/N looked up, listening for another sound before figuring it was just her mom or dad getting alcohol from the fridge after work.

Y/N sighed, flipping on her back to look at the pictures of creepypasta that she taped on her ceiling. Why was being a teen so damn hard?! Y/N doesn't have any friends either. Major L.

She curled up into a ball, hugging her boddy pillow and turning off the light on her nightstand. The room was blessed with darkness and silence, except for the slight click and clack of rain on the windows. Her eyes drifted to be half-lidded as her imagination filled her mind with fake scenarios and fantasies.