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#thus ends the skadey b halloween bonanza...
heraldeez · 1 year
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Terrifyingly Bad
JayVik x Reader | 2.3K | SFW
Warning/Tags: Modern AU, really terrible haunted houses, mentions of nipples, pre-relationship (though the reader is simping immensely). Technically Jinx, Ekko, and Sevika all make appearances briefly.
This has got to be the worst haunted house you and Viktor have ever seen. Jayce is scared shitless.
A/N: Last Halloween fic of the season, and it’s even still Halloween while posting!
This is just some haunted house misadventures, a little bit of shenanigans to round off the holiday. Loosely edited and only for a bit of fun.
Thanks to @dicax-asina and @valaruakars for encouraging my silly meter. Enjoy, and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Viktor’s ancient Volvo creaks into the lot to pick you up, swept in with a chilly autumn breeze that ruffles through your clothes.
You open the door to hop into the back seat with Jayce out of habit, because Viktor’s front seat is always covered in textbooks and an obscene amount of empty energy drink cans. Sitting atop the pile is your cardigan – you’d forgotten it last time he’d given you a ride home.
“Happy Halloween,” Viktor tosses over his shoulder, the Ghostbusters theme playing quietly on the radio.
“Looking good, (Y/n),” Jayce says. He’s got a big grin on, peering over your costume.
You hover for a moment, leaned over at the threshold for the door.
Because, to your delight, they were both dressed up.
You honestly weren’t sure if either of them were going to. Midterms had sucked every ounce of fun out of your campus this month, and though they were finally drawing to a close, Jayce and Viktor were still busy with grad work.
It warms your heart, that they’d matched your Halloween energy.
To be fair, Viktor’s costume seems to consist of a lab coat yanked from the spare closet in the science department’s storeroom. At least he’d taken time to stain it, for spooky effect, though the “bloodstains” look suspiciously like the strawberry jam you’d seen him spreading on toast when you’d left the lab the night prior.
You cock your head to the side. “What exactly are you supposed to be? Mad scientist?”
“Victor Frankenstein, obviously.”
It is not obvious.
The fact that he himself is an overworked scientist carries 90% of the convincingness of his costume, to be honest. It is regrettably charming, you have to acquiesce, how ruffled his hair is, the familiar urge to press kisses to his eyelids and love away the bags underneath them creeping up as you give him an amused thumbs up. Even if he looks pretty much like he always does.
But you don’t fault him for the low effort. His research paper into the sustainable energy possibilities for specialized prosthetics is due in less than a week, now. You were just grateful he’d carved out some time to spend with you and Jayce at all.
Jayce, on the other hand…
Well, he’s shirtless, for one. Despite the steeply falling temperatures. And wearing puppy ears, to match the puppy eyeliner that was all the rage over summer.
It does really bring out his eyes, you think, far more distracted by the collar wrapped snug around his neck.
“I’m a dog,” he provides helpfully, despite his costume being far more obvious than Vik’s. The smile he gives is crooked and earnest, wrapped up in a sweet excitement for the holiday. “What do you think?”
If he actually had a tail, it would be wagging.
Had he included that?
If so, it’s not very apparent, and you tactfully turn your eyes away from your friend’s lap before you get yourself into trouble.
“It’s, uh, very good! You nailed it,” you assure him, sliding into the bench seat and fumbling to buckle your seatbelt when Viktor raises a brow at you in the rearview mirror.
The car is small, so as you lurch into motion, Jayce’s arm has no room to rest anywhere except pressed against your own.
The drive is thankfully short.
Jayce has to duck to slide out of the tiny car, and you rest your hand atop his head to make sure he doesn’t bump it.
His hair is soft – he must have switched to mousse for the night, a few strands falling charmingly into his eyes. Unconsciously, you can’t help but card your fingers through it a bit, strands sliding silky and pleasant against your hand.
The grin Jayce gives you once he straightens up is dazzling.
“Thanks,” he says, taking your hand to give it a little squeeze.
You can feel a bashful grin tugging at the corner of your lips, but you turn away to buy tickets, leading your friends up to the annual drama department haunted house.
But once you get there, you have to pause.
The scariest thing about this haunted house is the fact that it looks like it’s going to collapse on top of you if you enter it.
There’s a big sign out front, proclaiming that organization had been left to the underclassmen this year, unlike years prior.
Seemingly mostly constructed of cardboard held together by duct tape, which hadn’t fared well in the rain, the haunt provides… not much confidence that it will be particularly terrifying.
You wouldn’t believe it, by the way Jayce was worrying his lip just looking at the entrance.
“Stop that,” you chide gently, “You’re going to get all chapped.”
Viktor nods sagely, tapping at his own lips in evidence, and you roll your eyes, rummaging your pockets in search of your own tube of chapstick.
“You’re both hopeless at taking care of yourselves, you know.” You point the chapstick accusingly at him, relying on aggressive caretaking to cover up how your mind is racing slightly, at the thought of indirect kisses.
Viktor stares at it with wide eyes when you offer it up. His hands are slow to take it, and if you’re not mistaken, his eyes are less on yours and more on your lips.
He applies some balm without complaint, though. Smacks his lips thoughtfully. “... Strawberry.”
“I’ll pick you up some, if you like that one.”
“No need. I’ll settle for stealing yours when I need it.”
Jayce leans in, eyes sparkling opportunistically. “I, uh, am feeling a little chapped actually –”
“I know for a fact that you carry lip balm around. I’ve seen it.”
You don’t go the extra mile of pointing out that his pants are so tight you know the shape of everything he’s carrying in his pockets. Among other things.
Jayce pouts, but you’re already reeling from the fact that Viktor’s lips are now marked with your own. No need to add further fuel to the fire.
It’s only made worse as Viktor’s tongue peeks out, just briefly, over his bottom lip as you all walk inside the haunt, not looking at you with cheeks stained pink.
“It’s kinda cold in here,” Jayce whispers anxiously, arms wrapped tight around your left bicep.
He's right, the inside of the haunt is barely any warmer than it had been outside in the cool October air, but you're having trouble focusing on the chill.
It's frazzling, the sheer heat radiating from his chest, pressed enticingly to your arm. It seeps through the fabric of your sleeve, into your brain, a radiating mantra of close, close, close.
A ghoul of some sort pops out, made of cardboard and paint, and Jayce is suddenly infinitely closer, your arm nested up against his firm pecs and –
And –
Well, he did say it was chilly.
You can feel his erect nipple drag against your skin, slightly cool and pebbled up in the air.
Jayce’s little gasp is almost inaudible, but you can feel how he pulls away – fuck, he’s sensitive – once the contact registers.
Only to press right back in once one of the haunt actors pops out from behind the doorway. Sensations and ego completely thrown aside, Jayce glues himself to your side, to Viktor’s amusement.
You… were not prepared to get this much intimate knowledge about Jayce’s nipples tonight, honestly. You’re struggling not to short circuit as you blindly lead him to the next room.
Where the power goes out.
The door swings shut loudly behind you, and with a snapping sound, all the lights die.
The production is actually a bit scary, for the first time all night.
Jayce all but stops breathing next to you, and you freeze, because there’s no way it’s safe to continue walking for Viktor.
You hiss his name into the dark.
Cool, calloused fingers bump against the back of your hand, Viktor threading his fingers through yours.
“I am right here,” Viktor murmurs, giving your fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry.”
He’s got nice hands, your brain nonsensically provides, still frazzled from the fear and all the revelations you’d been provided about the wonders of Jayce’s nipples.
Viktor’s hands are somehow both soft and a bit dry, though not unpleasantly so. His thumb rasps gently over the back of your hand. Back-forth, back-forth, soothing.
The silence drags, in the dark, fear falling away for appreciation, for both of the men to either side of you.
You’d have all been perhaps impressed at a finally effective scare, if not for the sounds of a stage tech muttering, “Ah shit, not again,” behind the plywood walls, and the sound of a fuse box door swinging open.
“The construction is more terrifying than the damn scares,” Jayce whispers agitatedly, with all the indignance of a haughty engineering grad student.
Which, of course, he is, but he could have a little more pity for the underclassmen.
The lights switch back on.
Neither Viktor nor Jayce let go.
Progressing to the next room still holding hands just feels right.
It dumps you out in a short hallway, capped off with an, er… “animatronic” skeleton.
It looks like it was picked up from a garage sale, considering the years of weathering, and it’s held together by duct tape and prayer
"Oh fuck that thing."
Jayce's considerable mass pulls you to a halt as he stares down the skeleton.
You turn to look up at him, raising an incredulous brow. "It's just cheap plastic, it literally could not be more obviously fake."
"It's gonna jump out!"
Much to your dismay, Viktor releases your hand.
He steps up to the prop, leaning forward over his cane to squint down into the poorly concealed mass of wiring.
"Their motion sensor is misaligned," he notes, with a huff of amusement.
You roll your eyes. "Figures."
Viktor scootches over, off the path, to trip the proxy, and the skeleton creaks to life, slowly wobbling its arm up in a spectral salute...
It promptly drops down directly on top of Viktor's head. Fortunately, it merely ruffles his hair considering it's made of hollow plastic.
Less fortunately, the entire skeleton arm falls off immediately, considering it seems assembled by a deranged five year old. It clatters to the floor limply.
Viktor pokes at it with the tip of his cane.
The security door bangs open in a flash of electric blue, streaking across the room to plant itself firmly in front of the skeleton.
It’s, er, hair. Long braids. Attached to a teenage girl.
She gives a chipper “OOPS!” and whips out an entire roll of neon green duct tape.
The shrip is jarring as she yanks the end and quickly wraps vibrant tape several times around the skeleton’s shoulder at lightning speed, reaffixing the arm.
Crooked, of course.
The grin on her face when she turns around is anything but friendly, Viktor leaning back with wide eyes as she juts herself into his personal space.
“Don’t touch the displays,” she grits through bared – “smiling” – teeth.
Considering she’s the scariest thing in the room despite being all of 5’2” and dressed in an Invader Zim hoodie, you don’t bother to point out that her display had more accurately touched Viktor, first.
Didn’t seem helpful.
She flounces back through the employee door, braids trailing behind her.
From behind the thin plywood, you can hear a boy complaining, loudly, “You’re not supposed to let them see you! Think about their immersion!”
“Puh-lease, they’re totally immersed. Did you see how that big guy was cowering?”
The conversation continues audibly behind plywood that offers literally zero sound insulation, and you want to grab them both by the shoulders and ask them just what immersion they thought was to be had in this absolute folly of a haunt.
Instead, you scoop up Viktor’s hand and continue walking because you aren’t trying to get choked out by an underclassman tonight.
The rest of the haunt progresses in similarly scuffed fashion. There’s got to be an end soon, right? What the underclassmen lacked in quality, they sure made up for in miles of sprawling plywood corridors.
Finally, you turn a corner and see streetlights, under a big sign helpfully marked "EXIT".
Down a long, otherwise empty hallway. No spooks, little decoration, just a long shot out the door.
Your sense for foolishness tingles.
Sure enough, there's a faint sound of a motor starting up, behind your little group. You can't even facepalm, because both your arms are occupied.
You peek over your shoulder to find a woman with short, dark hair, her muscles strong and well built under her costume, hefting a chainsaw on her left arm.
She smirks, and revs the motor.
It's cheesy. It's overdone. It feels like an actual haunted house finally, because she's actually kind of scary, intentionally.
And then –
The world is upside down.
Jayce throws you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry, and promptly scoops Viktor into his other arm. He all but sprints down the hall, muttering "nope nope nope" the whole way.
The woman hadn't managed to pursue because she'd been too busy laughing her ass off.
Jayce doesn't put either of you down until you reach the car.
Your table in the Starbucks is quiet.
Jayce and Viktor are picking at the seasonal drinks and cake pops that you'd gotten, as a thank you for coming along.
Seemed especially necessary, after how that had turned out.
Jayce finally breaks the silence.
"That haunted house was horrible," he grouses through a mouthful of themed Halloween frappuccino. "Way too scary."
"It was horrible, alright," Viktor mumbles, twirling his cake pop with a snort.
Jayce has your cardigan from Viktor's car draped over his shoulders to chase off the chill, his arm slung over your shoulders. Viktor's leg is resting against yours under the table, a warm, comforting weight.
Your hands still tingle where they'd been holding them, even after the haunted house.
So all in all, you kinda thought it hadn’t been all that bad.
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