Brick x Reader (Your PyschoManiacCreeperDemon)

   It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that there’s someone near your bed. Or, rather, on your bed beside you. Because obviously, the moment you stretch and your foot accidentally hits the warm body next to yours isn’t a clue that there is someone next to you. So then what do you do? The right thing. The common thing. You stay in your bed with the lights scared out of you, waiting for him to get up, for him to move, because you’re not really sure if he’s a deep sleeper or a light sleeper, and you don’t want to find out.

    But then the body moves. Moves towards you. And you curl up even tighter, trying to consume the space between your limbs as much as possible, just so that the intruder doesn’t touch you. But somehow, somehow he does. He rolls over and now you guys are spooning, his body curled around your small one of a ball. D’awww.

    That was sarcasm. Because now you’re terrified because you have no chance at escaping at all, and he’s enjoying a nice little slumber while you’re there, eyes wide open, still as a statue, and trying not breathe. (We’ll see how that works out.)

    Pause. You think he’s awake. No, you know he’s awake because of the sudden change in his breathing, the way his snores have stopped, and the way he’s stinking getting up and now rubbing his eyes. That’s it. You’re going to scream. You’re going to scream and grab the phone on the way out of your house and call 9-1-1, and while you’re doing that, bang on the doors of your neighbors while running from this... this... vagrant, as you wait anxiously for the police to come rescue you and shoot and kill him and send him to jail even though he’s already dead.

    The thought of guns lead your mind to wonder if he has a gun. Now you’re sweaty, you’re freaking out, and you’re trying to figure this through, all the while semi-conscious of the fact that he’s sitting up next to you and watching you feign sleep.

    No brain, no. Stop freaking out. He’s going to kill us if you don’t stop. Freaking. Out. Your eyes shut even tighter and you decide to fake some snores. Wow, you might as well have tied yourself to a tree and lent him a cannon (honestly, you should know better than to snore with that whistling gap between your teeth!) Tension. Tension. Tension.

    Why isn’t he firing his gun? He’s playing with you isn’t he? Maybe he actually fell for it! It’s too good to be true, but you continue to shut your eyes and do that stupid snore again, because since you started it, so you might as well go all the way. He’s staring... still staring. You’re getting even sweatier. Is he checking you out?

    Your heart stops beating. This is bad. This is really, really, really bad. This guy... isn’t a pervert, is he? Okay, who cares if he has a gun? You’re going to get out of there as fast as you can, and forget the phone ‘cause you’re just going to yell because some neighbor would probably know when someone is being stripped of their innocence and will call the police right away.

    Okay, so you’re about to make your mad dash, right? That’s what you were planning, right? Yeah, until the psycho maniac guy laughs, swoops down, and plants a kiss on your cheek. Your blood has gone cold. Now you think you’re a psycho maniac because now all you’re thinking is about how soft his lips felt against your cheek, how nice his laugh sounded, and it occurs to you that you enjoyed it. Yes, his crazy has definitely spread to you.

    “You are funny,” he chuckles, and there’s the immediate thought that you like the sound of his voice. Ohmygoodness. You just plead that he would stop talking, laughing, kissing (you shoot yourself mentally for that last one). Now you wonder how he looks. You wonder if this psycho maniac is an ugly guy that just loves to break hearts by stealing innocent young girls their first cheek kiss. And now your heart is breaking because you think your first cheek kiss was stolen by an ugly psycho maniac. You feel the urge to go look at his face and give up your whole sleeping charade (that you know probably wasn’t working anyways.) You wonder if he’s handsome. You wonder if he’ll give you another kiss.

    Oh my gosh, why doesn’t he just shoot you already?

    He gets up. You hear him get up and jump off your bed, which doesn’t feel as warm as it used to anymore, and you feel like you’re kind of missing that warmth.

    ...if he doesn’t shoot you, you will just do it yourself.

    “Hey, thanks for letting me crash,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his words. Okay, he knows you’re awake. And it sounds like he’s leaving. Even though your mind is against what you’re about to do, you get up and take the risk of looking at him.

    And he’s beautiful. He’s standing next to your open window (hazily, your mind puts together two and two and decides that’s how he snuck in) and the moonlight shines over his chiseled features, his silky red hair, and his red... demon... eyes.... Okay, you are pretty sure that is not normal. You are tired, okay. So you rub the sleep from your eyes and look once more. His pupils still glow red.

    There is a psycho maniac demon in your house. And you are not sure how to respond, because there is certainly no safety drills you’ve gone through that have prepared you for this. The stranger is grinning (you hope it’s not the pervy kind of smile) and takes a step on the ledge of your window. He waves a hand, his final goodbye. “It was nice sharing your room while I waited for the cops to pass by. Take that kiss as a thank you,” he winks.

    You can’t suppress a gasp. He was a psycho maniac! A psycho maniac pervy creeper demon just slept in your house! In your room! In. Your. Bed. You try to scream, but no noise comes out of your mouth. The psychomaniacpervycreeperdemon chuckles (you feel like blushing at the sound) and puts his other foot on the window ---

    You don’t know what possessed you to do it.  But before he can jump, rid you of all the stress and worry that he’s put you through, you blurt out, “What’s your name?” You actually thought of asking, Am I going to see you again? but then reason uppercutted your head in full force, and you realized that you don’t really want him coming back here. He blinks a couple of times, takes in the question, before he responds with a smile, “Brick.”

    And he’s gone.

   You stare at the window, then turn to the empty space next to you, the imprint of his being still left in your bed. A hand slowly raises to touch your cheek, the tingling sensation of his lips against your skin still fresh in your mind. A psycho maniac pervy creeper demon had just kissed you. And somehow, you can’t find the guts to say you didn’t like it.