Shia Labeouf (APH BTT x Reader)

Feeling the horrible loss of my muse as I write this crackfic. Reader's POV

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“Guuuuyyyyssssss.....” I whine as they follow me into the pitch black room. “What're you going to do?”

“Onhonhon~ What are we not going to do?” a French voice cackles.

“Silencio, mi amigo, por favor!” the Spaniard shushes him.

“All systems are go. Prepare for mein awesomeness!” yells Gilbert.

The door slams shut. For moments, you hear shuffling and rustling, and then a light flares, casting Francis's face in deep shadow. He takes a deep breath and begins the narration in a hushed voice.

“You're walking in the woods.
There's no one around,
And your phone is dead.
Out of the corner of your eye you spot him,”
“Shia Labeouf.” Gilbert's voice rings out within the unfathomable darkness.

I flinch slightly, and Francis continues.
“He's following you
About 30 feet back.
He gets down on all fours and breaks into a sprint.
He's gaining on you.”
“Shia Labeouf.” Gilbert hisses in my ear, sounding for all the world like Gollum, but when I whirl around, he's not there.

“You're looking for your car,
But you're all turned around.
He's almost upon you now
And you can see there's blood on his face!
Mon Dieu, there's blood everywhere!” Francis cries dramatically, deviating from the script as he lapsed back into his mother tongue for “My God”.

The room goes pitch black once more, and I have to bite back a scream. Moments later, a Spanish accented voice danced around the darkness, eluding me at every step.
“Running for your life
(From Shia Labeouf.)
He's brandishing a knife.
(It's Shia Labeouf.)
Lurking in the shadows
Hollywood superstar Shia Labeouf.
Living in the woods,
(Shia Labeouf.)
Killing for sport,
(Shia Labeouf.)
Eating all the bodies
Actual, cannibal Shia Labeouf.”

Back to Francis:
“Now it's dark and you seem to have lost him,
But you're hopelessly lost yourself.
Stranded with a murderer,
You creep silently through the underbrush.”
“A-ha! In the distance,
A small cottage with a light on.
Hope!
You move stealthily toward it,
But your leg! Ah! It's caught in a bear trap!” Gilbert yells, making me jump.

Antonio has the dubious honors of the next few lines;

“Gnawing off your leg,
(Quiet, quiet.)
Limping toward the cottage,
(Quiet, quiet.)
Now you're on the doorstep,”
“Sitting inside, Shia Labeouf.
Sharpening an ax,
(Shia Labeouf.)
But he doesn't hear you enter,
(Shia Labeouf.)
You're sneaking up behind him.
Strangling superstar Shia Labeouf.
Fighting for your life with Shia Labeouf,
Wrestling a knife from Shia Labeouf,
Stab it in his kidney.
Safe at last from Shia Labeouf.” Gilbert narrates the gruesome scene.

Sounding a bit shaken himself, Francis said out of the darkness.

“You limp into the dark woods,
Blood oozing from your stump leg.
But you have won.
You have beaten Shia Labeouf.”

I sigh with relief. It's good that this was over, but before I can say anything, the light flashes on and off. “Arghhhhhh!” I scream at the top of my lungs, dignity deserting me.

The trio recite the extended ending in unison:
“Wait! He isn't dead! Shia Surprise!
There's a gun to your head, and death in his eyes.
But you can do Jiu Jitsu
Body Slam superstar Shia Labeouf
Legendary fight with Shia Labeouf
Normal Tuesday night for Shia Labeouf
You try to swing an axe at Shia Labeouf
But blood is draining fast from your stump leg

He's dodging every swipe, he parries to the left
You counter to the right, you catch him in the neck
You're chopping off his head now
You have just decapitated Shia Labeouf

His head topples to the floor, expressionless
You fall to your knees and catch your breath
You're finally safe from Shia Labeouf”

This time, nothing happens when I suppose the show is over. “Guys?” I call out gingerly. “Is it over?”

“Si.”

“Ja.”

“Oui.”

The three boys responded, then flicked on the lights. “So? Did you like it?” They demand.

“Like it??” I yell. “I was terrified! And give me a fair warning next time, please!” I call as I storm out of the room.

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Later that night

“G-guys?” I call out, groping for the light switch in their room. “C-can someone cuddle with me?” I flip the switch on, revealing a very sleepy and tousled Bad Touch Trio.

“What for, chica?” Antonio asks sympathetically.

“I-i'm scared...that Shia Labeouf will come into my room and kill me...” I whimper. “Can we sleep in a dogpile tonight?”

“Sure, why not, mon ami?” Francis shrugs, then pulls me into a hug.

We are both squashed as Gilbert takes a flying leap and lands on top of us. “Pile up, Toni!” he calls.

The tomato-loving man doesn't hesitate, and jumps right in. We fall asleep in a cozy heap.

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Still later that night

Thump....thump...creak....

I blink and yawn, rubbing my eyes.

Thump....thump...creak....

It was for real. There was someone in our house. I quickly catalog the people I am sharing body heat with. Antonio. Francis. Gilbert. Me. That makes four of us.

But who's going thump in the night?

All my misgivings that had led me to this dogpile slumber party crash through my mind. Oh, God! It's Shia Labeouf!

“Guys....” I hiss, tugging them awake. The pile unwinds in a bundle of groans and yawns. “Be quiet!” I shush them. “Shia Labeouf is downstairs.”

“Right, (Name).” Gilbert smirks. “And the moon is made from green cheese.”

“No... she's right... I hear something too.” Antonio comes to my defense, face pale under his ruddy tan. Thump....thump...creak....

“Oh, mon Dieu! I am too young! Too beautiful to die!” Francis screams, swooning.

“Get yourself back together.” I snap, then say, “Well, now we're done for, thanks to your little outburst.”

“What shall we do?” Francis sobbed.

“Well, it should be obvious.” Gilbert says. “Who here can do Jiu Jistsu?”

“You're kidding me.” Antonio and I say in unison, staring at Gilbert like he had just cracked. For all we know, he had.

“Well, if you want to be chicken and die lying down, fine with me.” The albino gives a cocky grin.

I let out a breath. “Fine.” I say, glaring at him. “Come on guys, we're going to kill Shia Labeouf. Arm yourselves.”

Holding an assortment of weapons, including Antonio's Nerf gun, Gilbert's broom guitar, an empty bottle of wine, and a beer mug, we open the door. All is silent in the hallway, and then comes the telltale Thump....thump...creak.... and the emergence of a shadowed silhouette around the corner.

“Get him!” I whisper.

“SIE SIND DAS ESSEN UN WIR SIND DIE JAAAEEEEEGEEEEERRRRRRR!” We scream, charging the figure. We bash him on the head with the weapons, gnashing our teeth and taking him into a tackle.

“Did we get him?” I ask the trio. They nod back.

We are finally safe from Shia Labeouf.

“Ow! Get off me, Gilbert! You're sitting on my face!” says a fourth voice.

“Oh! Shia surprise!” The four of us scream jumping to our feet, weapons at ready.

“You all have 100 more laps to run tomorrow morning due to your disorderly behavior tonight.” A disheveled Ludwig slurrs, then passes out.