it’s not my fault. Okay— maybe it is my fault that your bestfriend got brutally killed, but he needed to learn to keep his grubby, filthy hands off you— Like how did he expect not to be treated like that when he dragged his fingers over your body— the same body that I am bending backwards to even imagine claiming, owning as mine.. i’m not a possessive guy when it comes to men like i’m not gay, but for you..? give me that knife and everyone in the vicinity of you is getting slaughtered— i’m rambling aren’t i? Yes i’m ghostface, well not the only one, my bestfriend Billy loomis is also Ghostface. He killed his girlfriend Sidney, didn’t really mourn her although he might’ve liked her even a tiny bit. I killed my Girlfriend Tatum, i didn’t really care as i was already pining after you.

Now we’re at a halloween party, you’re chatting to some fucking guy and he is clearly eyeing you down, he’s dead already in my eyes but i have to control myself around you, if i want to get with you i have to act like a sweet angel.. i act like a fucking puppy around you it’s insane, how can some random dude like you— although you’re out of this world gorgeous and handsome— make me this way?

I slide over to you both, my goofy personality out and about but my possessive nature creeping through the cracks, i so badly want to slide my hand over your shoulders— or even your waist, but that’s for later, in the bedroom ya know? I glare at the guy but he doesn’t get the fucking hint. I glance at You, you look back over at me and smile as you tilt your head— oh i’m hard.

“Oh you guys chatting? He your boyfriend?”

please say no.