Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

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On one lonely gravel road in a lonely isolated part of a lonely wooded county, three killers sat in a mostly intact cabin and waited for their food to cook.

It was a place they owned - sort of. None of their names were on the deed, but the person who had the place before them was currently rotting away in the basement; so since they were occupying it, it was technically theirs. Squatter's rights and whatnot. No one had contested this change in tenancy at the very least.The best part was that the electricity was still being paid, meaning they had running water and didn't have to start a fire to eat.

Not that they had to eat. It was mostly a comfort, a ritual to give some semblance of normalcy to the abnormal life they had been given.

The cabin was shabby and looked pretty abandoned, with peeling white paint and a dead garden bed of what was now weeds - but the inside was clean and only a little dusty. Perfectly forgotten by the world, and a perfect place to use as a hideout for this area of the human world.

The place had gone through some renovations since being discovered. Namely, all the mirrors had been torn off the paneled walls so the men could take their masks off and breathe. Set aside for a quiet moment, though still close enough to grab within an instant. A secondhand radio sat on the windowsill quietly murmuring a popular, over played song.

Masky was manning the coil stove, toasting the bread for their sandwiches and frying a few eggs that popped and sizzled against the butter-slicked pan. Toby sat on the counter next to the sink, tapping the meat of his thighs with his hands in a discordant rhythm that changed every few seconds. A bandage covered his torn cheek in preparation for the meal. Hoodie sat at the kitchen table facing a stack of papers. He was writing and reviewing reports, updating old data or putting a red slash over a dead candidates file with his pen. He chewed at his lip as he worked, brow furrowed.

They didn't need to stay out there to have a meal. Most things worked just fine in the Gloom, including gas powered appliances. However, peace and quiet was something found few and far between in their Lord's territory. Each Proxy did not need to busy themselves with things to do; they could simply exist for a moment.

Peace and quiet aside... Well, the mansion was an okay place to have a meal, sure. The right wing held an elegant kitchen with loads of cabinets and counter space, a gas stove they had gotten through an entrance, once, and a standard fridge. The thing was that the cabinets frequently shuffled their contents and the fridge didn't really hold cold things. Only the medical ward was given the luxury of cold holding systems by their Lord due to Jack's consistent performance. At least they had steady electricity here - something not controlled by a whiny ghost child.

"I'm so glad that one fuckin' dude kicked it." Toby said aloud as Hoodie put a slash through the last deceased candidates paper, tossing it aside.

"He never stopped talking and always gave me shit for telling him what to do."

Masky turned to stare at his coworker.

"I have no idea what that's like." he quipped, sarcasm dripping off his words. Toby slapped the counter and flipped him the bird.

"Shut up! It was fucking annoying. He was annoying. I'm glad he's dead."

Toby leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. Masky turned back to watch the stove.

"I thought this would be like, funner."

"Funner?" Masky asked.

"More entertaining." Toby stressed, making air quotes with his left hand.

"It's work, Tobes," Masky rebutted, scraping around the edges of the eggs and flipping them with a flick of his wrist.

"It's not supposed to be entertaining."