The soul electric (Ghostface x reader)

𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎

Real quick, I think Wattpad glitched again and replaced the prologue with part of someone else's story.  Luckily for me, that author reads my shit and recognized their work, and was able to send me a DM.  So if you could just go double check the prologue, I think I fixed it.  I don't know if it affected what you guys read, so if you could go double check, that'd be great.

But first the issues with uploading the sequel, and now this.  What the fuck Wattpad.  What.  The.  Fuck.  I'm pissed.

You and Randy made sure you had all the leftovers, and you made your way into the house.  You could already hear the barking coming from inside already.  You didn't need to see the dark gray great dane jumping around from the window in the door to know what was making all the noise.

"Hi Marshmallow," you greeted happily.  "Have you missed us?  Aw, who's a good boy, who's a good boy?!"

"Hey Marshmallow, guess who get's to get babysat by the neighbor again," Randy asked the loveable pooch.  "You do!  Yes, you do!"

You both made your way inside, getting the food into the fridge.  Marshmallow had quickly quieted down and began to silently follow you and Randy, keeping you both company.  While you both had decided on a great dane because of their size, and figured seeing something like that charge at you angrily was enough to ward off unwanted guests.  But you had still trained Marshmallow from a young age to know different attack and defense commands.

But Marshmallow didn't stop growing.  When his head perked up for whatever reason, it would reach your shoulders.  Maybe that's why the two original killers never bothered you anymore.

"Hey, we got mail," Randy announced.  "Must've arrived when you were talking to Milton."

"Anything abnormal," you asked.

"There's a letter from Sidney."

"Oh shit."

"It's only addressed to me.  She's still mad."

Fuck.

You understood why she was mad at you.  The man who had tried to kill her, as well as his accomplice had managed to flee from the police.  And then they cleaned your apartment.  So she assumed that you had a hand in it.  You didn't, but you couldn't blame her for fearing that.  It was another traumatic experience for everyone involved (because life just seemed to hate you guys).

"I think she needs to get over it," Randy shrugged.  "You weren't involved, and that's that."

"She almost died.  Twice.  Cut her some slack," you demanded.

"Cut her some slack?  You proved your innocence, then she shut herself away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere!  She let her resentment make her a hermit!"

"And you still refuse to get in cars that have more than two seats.  That doesn't mean your a fancy motherfucker, yet here we are."

He groaned, and began muttering something about you calling him out.  You smirked and made your way towards the staircase, just wanting to lay down and read or something.  But Marshmallow perked up from something you couldn't hear.  So he jumped up and made his way to the front door.

"What?  What is it boy," Randy asked.

Marshmallow just growled at the door.  You hesitantly looked at Randy, who seemed just as confused as you were.  You made your way to the door, peering through the little window at the top.

"There's no one there," you stated.  "Marshmallow, buddy, what's wrong?"

The dog simply huffed and began to pace around the living room.

"Burnt Marshmallow, you're scaring me," Randy admitted.

Breaking out the full name?  Randy really was nervous.

You see, when you and Randy moved in together and got ahold of the funds, of course you got the guard dog you wanted.  And you got a great dane since the size made you feel the most protected.  But you and Randy chose to honor the choice to name the dog Marshmallow.  But since the little puppy was an ashy gray, you decided to name it 'Burnt Marshmallow,' or just Marshmallow for short.

"You want Marshy to stay with you tonight," you questioned.

"Kinda.  But are you-"

"I'll be fine.  I'm just going to go rewatch 'Happy Gilmore.'  See you tomorrow."

And with that, you finished the journey upstairs.  Turning on your TV and sliding in the CD for the comedy about golf, you flopped down on your bed.  You had really begun to turn your life around.  You had even gotten better at talking to strangers.  You were still wary of them, but now you could voice out your concerns better.

Sidney had purchased her cabin and fled from Windsor, only communicating with the outside world through letters.  She only ever called her father, Deputy Riley, and her father.  But not you.  She despised you for your affiliation with the killers.  And you couldn't bring yourself to blame her or get mad.  She had gone through some serious shit as well.  In fact, you had even heard she was the one to walk in on her mother's murder scene.

It was truly tragic.  And you understood completely.

It would be hypocritical of you to act like she was in the wrong.

But you didn't have time to focus on Sidney's hatred towards you.  You started work in a few days.  You had to come up with a game plan.  You were giving this your all, like it were any other project you had got hired to work on.  Not one that glorified what you went through.

You would make both Randy and your new employer proud.  You were already thinking of some good ideas.  Good descriptions.  And struggling to remember the exact verbal exchanges from the Woodsboro Massacre.

You vividly remembered what you told the killers, and you remembered the bitchy lady who thought you were pranking her when you called for help.  You vaguely remembered Sidney trying to tell you something while she lied in her own blood.  And you remembered Gale forgetting the safety on the gun, and William making a quip about it.  You couldn't remember exactly what he said, though.  Just that Gale turned his words around on him when she managed to pull herself together.

You laid down, about to roll over and sleep.  Then you heard Marshmallow start barking.  He was loud, so you shot up and ran to see what was the matter.  Racing down the stairs, you saw Randy making his way around the house, checking that all of the windows and doors were locked.

"Randal, what happened," you asked.

"I don't know.  But Burnt Marshmallow's really fired up, so I'm not taking any chances."

You nodded.  Made sense.  You were potentially being hunted by two murderers who had threatened to kill you for years now.  Who's to say that they hadn't come to finish the job tonight?

"Alright.  Everything's locked up," Randy told you.  "I'm keeping Marshmallow tonight."

"Hey, it's my dog!"

"Yeah, and I'm on the first floor.  Marshmallow's staying with me.  Now go to bed, we have work tomorrow."

And with that, he went to his room, taking Burnt Marshmallow with him.

A/n: not finding a lot of stuff for 'American Horror Story.'  Damn username, making me want to get ideas.  Although, I have been looking to start something new.

And I found a TV series I remember from when I was younger at the local library, so now I'm binging 'Fraggle Rock.'  Totally normal for a person my age... totally...