#jed imagine

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Midnight Talks - Jed Tien

Summary: Even though it was getting closer and closer to midnight and everyone else was was fast asleep in their rooms, Jed and his girlfriend found themselves laying under the stars talking about everything and anything. Word Count: 412 Warnings: none, just fluff for once :) Pairings/Characters: Jed Tien x witch!reader Prompt: "If you still take requests and if you do can you do a Legacies Jed maybe Like a fluff?" - anon A/N: Not me finally learning what Jed's last name is lmao, took me a minute but at least now I know. This is just a cute little piece, not really long New Masterlist| Prompt List| Buy me a ko-fi!!

"Do you think dinosaurs had feathers like birds or were they just scaly like reptiles?" Y/N asked as she watched the stars twinkle above them.

Jed turned his head and looked at his girlfriend who was just mesmerized by the night sky. "I'm sure there were a mix of both, there's no way there wasn't."

Y/N turned her head and stared back at Jed, smiling softly at him. "What about the ones that swim? What happened to them?" She just kept expanding the conversation, talking about more dinosaur stuff in one night than she ever has before.

Jed chuckled and pulled her closer to him. "You just have the most bizarre questions, don't you?"

Y/N shrugged as she wrapped her arms around Jed's upper body and laid her head on his chest. "Sometimes you just gotta ask the questions that no one else is willing to ask."

The couple laughed softly as they held each other, talking about dinosaurs and what they could've possible looked like, then moving onto the crazy food combinations they had both seen their classmates and friends eat during lunch or on passing periods.

"There's no way that he was eating pickles with Nutella, that's just so wrong." Jed laughed as his girlfriend told him what one of the werewolves was caught eating during their free period.

Y/N shrugged, "I saw what I saw, maybe you should ask them yourself since you're the alpha and all." She teased, nudging him a bit with a smirk plastered on her face. The two stared at each other in a happy, comfortable silence for a bit. Jed reached out and tugged his girlfriend into his side, hugging her tightly as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her forehead.

They should really start heading to bed, but they'd much rather stay up and continue their midnight talks instead.

[lorimnnn]

thinking about a man who fucks you into the mattress like a rabid dog. he laughs with smug satisfaction at the noises he hammers out of you, and the shame brands your cheeks with red.

"you're such a fuckin' freak, you know that? fuck. you get a kick out of lyin' to everyone about what you are? you deserve an oscar."

nobody would believe him if he told them, of course. but he doesn't have to. the shame is enough for you alone, because it will lead you back to him again and again, no matter how bad for you he is. but that's fine.

something that feels this good can't possibly be that bad, right?

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! dbd ghostface (danny johnson) headcanons

cws: yandere themes, danny is a perv, non-consensual picture taking, stalking obv, slight nsfw themes but danny is just a freak, danny is a sadist, gore, danny makes out with your wounds, obsessive! danny, possessive! danny,

— yan! ghostface whose eye you catch in your first trial. you who are wide eyed, disoriented, and hyper-aware of your surroundings make easy prey.

— yan! ghostface who stalks you for awhile before approaching you, using your disbelief and naivety against you.

— yan! ghostface who explains your situation, portraying himself as a fellow survivor and guides you through the motions of the match before pressing his blade to your throat.

— yan! ghostface who smirks beneath his mask, watching as your eyes widen with fear and betrayal. he feels himself become aroused as your pretty optics glisten with tears, groaning as you beg for him to let you go.

— yan! ghostface who is stunned by a flashlight, feeling you wriggle free from his grip and sprint off like a frightened bunny.

— yan! ghostface who you are wary of in each match. he singles you out and taunts you, describing each horrific thing he’ll do to you once he gets his hands on you, finding that this little obsession of his is growing by the day.

— yan! ghostface who begins thinking about you even outside of trials. it started as wondering what he would do to you next, turning into lustful daydreams and palming himself at the thought of you.

— yan! ghostface who snaps polaroids of you while you do mundane things. assembling a medkit or toolbox, finding materials for offerings, talking to your fellow survivors…

— yan! ghostface who loathes the sight of you smiling at the others in the survivor camp. you belong to him. that smile of yours is reserved for him. your laugh is reserved for him.

— yan! ghostface who slowly feels those lustful feelings of his grow into something deeper. he finds himself thinking less and less about ways to kill you, and more about ways he could make you smile.

— yan! ghostface who, in your next trial with him, brings you the body of each survivor, dropping it in front of you much like a cat would gift its owner a dead mouse.

— yan! ghostface who corners you, sitting on your stomach and wrapping his fingers around your throat. he swiftly snaps a polaroid of this beautiful sight, crazed ramblings about how you’ve caught his attention leaving his lips.

— yan! ghostface who is amused at how quickly you’ve gained his interest, his favorite pastimes stalking you and leaving just enough of a trace for you to know he was there.

— yan! ghostface who finds it incredibly romantic to hold your hand while you bleed out beneath him, his mask lifted to show off the frenzied look in his eyes, blood dripping from his chin and onto your paling features.

— yan! ghostface who looooves to makeout with your stab wounds. he’s always sure to leave you for last, finding motivation in the fact that if he rids the trial of all other survivors, he can spend as much time with you as he pleases.

— yan! ghostface who coos at you as you beg for him to let you go… or to just end it already. a frown tugging at his lips as he feels his heart pang with the slightest of remorse. he quickly covers it up with a mocking sneer, telling you that you should be proud to bear his love in such a way. no one’s ever had it but you.

— yan! ghostface who singles out each person you talk to in their next trial with him, mercilessly slaughtering them as he tells them to stay the fuck away from you.

— yan! ghostface who somehow convinces the entity to let you spend some time with him on a random day, designating it as your new birthday. he’ll watch with interest as your shaky fingers grip the rusted fork, shoving the mediocre cake down your throat. he’s never seen a better sight.

— yan! ghostface who loooves everything about you <33

[apocalypse-shuffle]

DANNY "JED OLSEN" JOHNSON | THE GHOST FACE (dead by daylight)

—

“Try Not to Scream” (Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson | The Ghost Face x Fem!Reader)

| After you’ve been with Danny for a little while, the instance of him kidnapping you and revealing who he really was behind you but not forgotten, he decides it’s high time he start desensitizing you to what it is he does.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, murder, mature themes, moral dilemma, the reader-insert has in braids (TW: general sadism, kidnapping, unhealthy relationship) -dark!reader & goth!reader

| This fic is a continuation of sorts to the “Jed Olsen” section in this imagine post. This also doesn’t take place in the Entity’s realm. (Pic source: DbD promotional material)

| 2k+ words

EXTRA HC: The justification I’m operating on, in regards to Danny sparing anyone and/or genuinely “dating” anyone, is that Danny has to see some sense of kinship in the other person. A sense that you’re not lying to yourself like everyone else but him about your darkness, and seeing the potential for murder in you. Then he’ll allow for a little partnership action.

“Stop trembling.”

You flinch.

That low timbre travels through all the nerve endings in your spine like an electric shock, jolting you ram-rod straight out of your curled up position close as you could get to the door of his new school vehicle.

In spite of his talking to you your lips remain sealed in a thin line as you glower out the window. At the bottom level of an otherwise uninhibited parking tower where Danny figured you could make the least trouble. Staring at nothing but white lines on the asphalt lit sparsely by dull yellowing lights.

Even now his voice still has heat pooling in your gut that makes you want to grind your teeth into a fine alabaster powder. The less pleasant queasy feeling in your stomach that accompanies that warmth isn’t much consolation.

Jed— Danny was full of possibilities, and not one of them was conventional or safe.

Really the only ‘good’ thing about tonight was that he wouldn’t have time to keep all his focus on you, to weigh you down with the force of it, because he had a target he planned on killing tonight and an op-ed that would need finishing right after.

Horrible though it may be, you’re glad you're not the center of his obsession right now. Pierce, his newest victim since you guys settled into town that he’s been dragging you along to watch for weeks, firmly held that position in your stead tonight.

He clears his throat. Reluctantly, you turn your head to watch him.

Cracking his knuckles, Danny gives you a long look, full brows furrowed. You give the thicket above his eyes more attention than you do the dark orbs themselves.

“Don’t do anything dumb, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for your response or stick around to try hammering in his point more, however, twitching fingers a clear sign of his being more eager for carnage than any type of lecturing.

He slips on the mask right before he leaves the car; the rest of him decked out only in civvies and hunting boots. The ghost mask is one you’ve gotten plenty familiar with in the past. Vividly, you can remember the sight of that mask hunting you down and then directly in your face as the news dubbed “Ghost Face” slit your then boyfriend’s throat and christened you in his spray of blood before Danny had done you the disservice of sparing your life.

It's hard to look away as your ex(?) makes his way from the car with the hood of his black hoodie up, leaving you sitting pretty and still struggling to hold back your trembling in the passenger seat. Left to do nothing but watch.

Or to call the cops once your sense finally daigns to come back to you.

He had seemed so certain last night that you wouldn’t, and you hate that you even have to wonder whether you’ll prove him right or if you’ll finally buck up, reactivate your stalling-like-shit morality, and call the cops on his pasty ass right now regardless of your general distrust of the police.

As Danny waltzes without a hitch across the parking lot to where Pierce’s car is bracketed by two thick concrete pillars on either side at the back corner of the lot, though, no part of you moves towards Danny’s burner phone where it rests in the cup holder beside you like a taunt.

Or an opportunity.

Your painted nails tap against the button to turn the window down, a light rhythmic clicking sounding through the silent car while your eyes stay transfixed to Danny. Danny, who might as well be invisible as he closes in on the car without incident just as Pierce is ducking down to get in.

The transition after that is well timed and impressive enough that your eyebrows raise in place of where you should be screaming your head off.

Heedless of good citizenship, your lips stay stubbornly shut as you watch Danny wait until the exact moment Pierce — still unaware of where the seasoned killer is crouched out of immediate sight by the passenger door — closes the driver’s door shut behind him to open the muscular man’s passenger door and slip inside like he belongs there too.

When your window slips down a crack you don’t even bother acting surprised, you just stop moving, hold your breath, and listen.

In the immediate seconds after Danny enters Pierce startles, his face contorting in disbelief, and then he has a knife through his sternum from one blink to the next.

A muffled scream, high and panicked and quickly cutoff, meets your ears for hardly a second before silence descends around you once again.

His expressions look stilted as they come to him, like he’s lagging, but Danny doesn’t give him the chance to do much but emote as his next three stabs come in quick succession.

Sternum, the joint of his shoulder when he tries to sit up better, somewhere besides his Adam's apple, his damn cheek; all leading up to the final blow where Danny’s blade glints against the lighting in the sports car before being buried to the hilt in Pierce’s eyeball.

Blood flies everywhere.

Danny’s just pushing out of the passenger’s seat to get more leverage, knocking the bottom of the hilt with the heel of his palm so that the knife goes even farther in, when the automated lights go out and plunge the inside of Pierce’s car into darkness.

This time you don’t hear anything.

Not a stray beep of the horn or the drag of soaked fingers over tempered class or a squeak from the slightly rocking cars’ joints.

Not even when the flash of his camera gives you a few seconds of discombobulating previews of the carnage he’s created does the silence break.

Nothing.

Not until Danny’s slipping back out of the car and closing the passenger door with a hardly notable click. In that brief moment the lights kick back on and the scene that greets you is even bloodier than when you saw it last.

Blood managed to spray a dripping arch in front of the driver’s seat window, the skin around Pierce’s eye socket protrudes as if a tiny bomb had been planted in it, and his eyeball dangles precariously from his head by whatever tendon lies behind it.

His throat is slit now too, not just stabbed. One continuous perforated mess that’s compromised the structural integrity of the muscled man’s neck so badly his head, where it’s trying its best to slip over the side of the headrest he’s propped up against, has slipped back far enough it creates the illusion of a gaping cavernous maw below his chin. Crimson and gurgling. Like he gave one last wide grin as he met his death.

You can barely imagine the amount of blood you’d be able to see up close…or the sheer force of how it would all smell. It makes your stomach clench and by the time the lights have shut back off and Danny’s easing behind the wheel beside you your eyes burn too.

Contrary to the mild sample you get of what the inside of Pierce’s car smells like, he's covered in less blood than you had expected him to be. Instead of that striking you with fear all you can think about is how much of a Danny Thing that is to manage.

Of course he’d fucking kill like he’s afraid of increasing his dry cleaning bill even when he’d been so hyped up he was trembling on the drive over; there was control behind all that strange unconventional bravado of his.

He slips off his mask.

All but a single dark smear across the stark white of the masked forehead bears no sign of his misdeeds.

“Don’t faint.”

That’s what he leads with.

No questioning the security of the contents of your stomach or how red your eyes have gotten. He just jumps directly back into conversation like you didn’t just witness him kill a man.

It unfreezes you though, and with a gasp of breath you’re talking before you can fully check yourself, “That doesn’t sound like a ‘me’ issue.”

“Oh?” Danny chuckles darkly. “I can make it a personal issue for you after the fact, I assure you.” He raises his brows in question, the quirk of his lips sharp, and you can’t help the way your saliva turns bitter in the face of it.

At your lack of comeback he lets himself pull out the camera in his pocket. That too is streaked only minimally crimson.

When it slips up and he points it at your face you’re not fast enough to give him your back. You’re gazing directly at him and probably looking utterly enamored in your shock.

The murderer — the man who seems utterly determined to drag you against your will across the country with him — heeding no mind to your displeasure, takes a few more shots before you catch yourself and shift out of the light shining in through the windshield.

Pictures already taken, though, Danny doesn’t bother with you, already flipping his camera around.

“Nice,” he murmurs, clicking through the photos. He glances up at you then, winks. “I think these might be better than the pictures I took with you the night we met.”

You're speaking before you can talk yourself out of it, tone sharp, “The night you tried to kill me?”

He pauses.

His fingers stutter for a second over silver buttons, his camera whirling, before he meets the fire in your gaze with his own inferno.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Spit too much fire and you might burn yourself.”

For a while you hold his stare regardless of his warning. He kidnapped you, he didn’t get to force you to act like this was some kind of fun outing. It didn’t matter how avidly you had stared into Pierce’s car.

The burner in the cup holder still staring back at you — still unused — didn’t mean anything.

Part of you wants to break that damn camera. Maybe then he’d finally fucking cry about something, show some actual genuine emotion for once.

Fuck.

Letting out a harsh breath through your teeth, you turn away from him, hiding your clenched fists in between your legs.

It was best you didn’t provoke him and you knew that. The good thing about Danny, though, was that while he burned hot, he didn’t burn long.

And you were determined to work that in your favor any chance you got.

From the driver's seat you hear your companion relax and your shoulders slump.

They ache with the remnants of your tension.

“Sure,” you acquiesce, licking slowly over your cracked lips and looking back at him with a little less fire in your eyes. “Why then? Why all the stabs if you were just going to slit his…you know?”

“His. Throat,” Danny stresses. Low, short.

He works his gloves over his fingers with his teeth, stuffing the leather in his waistband near where you know the sheath for his tactical knife is strapped against his thigh behind the center console.

You duck your head, braids knocking forward, force your hands to relax, then begin to fiddle with the rosary beads hung low on your neck. A dower mirth lifts your brows; as if the god you didn’t even believe in could save you now.

And for all you knew this was one of Danny’s gifts that he’d stolen off some poor person's dead body, so what good juju it could’ve had was probably tainted anyway.

“Fine,” you mutter, voice stilted and rough. “Why do all that if you were gonna slit his throat anyway?”

Hands on the wheel Danny shrugs - shrugs!

“I like to slit their throats sometimes, it makes the scene more dramatic, you know? Plus, I wanted to get you as acquainted as I could so I drew it out a bit more. But I’ll admit I went a lot faster than I would’ve if I was in a more private space, that’s why I like killing them in their houses.” He turns to you fully, lifts his hand past the partition without a care for how you flinch, and moves some of your braids interwoven with your fluff of curls out of your face so he can bore his gaze directly into yours. The pad of his fingers are dewy against your umber skin, his touch tender only because of their feel. “Sometimes it’s fun when they fight, when I get to debase them in the one place they feel safe.”

You bite back the urge to grimace.

It figures that the one time you get a straight answer out of him is tonight.

“Oh,” you breathe, fingers stumbling over the beads you’re rolling between them, “I…guess that’s good to know.”

Danny smiles, it’s not fake but now that you know the truth it doesn’t sit right on his face either, before turning back to his camera.

At least, you supposed, you now had more of an idea as to how he’d dispose of you if you stopped being entertaining.

The memory of the glint of Danny’s knife in the light, its own omen, as he closed in on his victim’s car (the victim of his stalking, of his murder) flickers through your mind. Flashes of the dead man’s gaping flesh swiftly follow.

Would you like it when The Ghost Face finally claimed your soul too? Would his being through with you grant you damnation or not?

Silent, you watch him get situated once he’s finished looking over his cache for the evening. His profile stands out starkly against the tower lights behind him, reedy defined features and that blocky nose that once regularly held up glasses he didn’t need to see. He’s almost angel-pretty like this. Makes a pang strike through your chest at the remnants of before, of poking at him while he worked until he couldn’t help but indulge you and his numbing kisses and the dorky (curated) way he’d push up his glasses after laughing at something cute you’d done.

It was ridiculous, this war within you. Everything about Jed Olsen had been a lie and yet still the phantom of him intrinsic to Danny continues to have you yearning.

Still you can’t help but wonder if the stab of his knife through your dark sensitive flesh, the feel of his masked or barren eyes stripping you to tendon as he plunged past your ribcage, would feel like divinity.

Danny brushes the choppy fringe of bangs that line his forehead back, streaks blood through brunet strands, and still your heart’s desire remains. Would it be…better like this? If you stayed with him, let yourself be content with a knife in your hand and a far more familiar devil reigning at your side?

The car turns on and Danny starts driving you guys away from his newest crime scene, flicking the radio on as he goes. The dvd in his player spins and the moody tones of The Ire fill the heavy air between you both. Despite yourself you fall into Maya Brooks’ distorted vocals, letting your body sway and shift minutely in tandem with the music.

Danny’s eyes when he glances at you are dull — you’d say they were grim if you thought he had the ability to feel remorse, but his expression is unusually open. His gaze intent on the way you’re softly mouthing along to Derelict.

“We won’t stay west too long, okay, Honey?” His voice is dry, but the curl of his tongue around the pet name is like a verbal lash. “You just hold on and I’ll have you slitting throats up north before New Years. You’re gonna love it.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

I seem to only be able to write Danny once every year (not necessarily for a lack of trying, I’m a slow creator), but I really love exploring the horror and moral fuckery of these slasher romances so I had a great time writing this. And, yes, I did give Danny glasses as a part of his Jed ruse.

Ignore that I included a band that isn’t 90’s, I just really wanted to include The Ire idk (they’re described as goth/post-punk, but really I just wanted to talk about them a little). Plus the setting is nebulous anyway.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

Alt. Banner (scrapped) —

[florestmoon]

Eye For An Eye (Ghostface x Reader x Frank Morison)

Summary: When the dull town of Ormond springs to life after a string of murders— you and Frank find yourselves in the eyes of The Ghostface and the darkness that hides behind the mask that’s ready to corrupt you.

Warnings: this story is going to contain a lot violence , stalking, possessive behavior, blood, murder and much more. It’s heavy with unhealthy relationships sooo plsss read with caution !!

Notes: hiiii besties , I started this story three years ago. Frank and Ghostface are my faves in dbd so yes, I decided to create a story including both !! I posted two chapters before then disappeared. So I’m back and rewriting those chapters and heavily motivated! Hope you enjoy (((: mwah

Seasons don’t fear the reaper.

Open spaces between the branches and leafs that hung off the looming trees allowed for the blaring sun to peak its way through. It’s light falling victim to being blocked out by the faded red baseball cap that sat on top of your head.

Your head swayed slightly as your movements matched it smoothly down the empty road in a zig zag motion. Both arms raised by your sides, your fingers stretched reaching for nothing but everything at the same time. The sound of your rolling skates were filtered out by the headset that was placed over your hat.

The road seemed to go on forever. The endless trees that decorated the side of the deserted road giving an illusion of it being longer than it actually is. Part of you wished for there to be a whole different outcome at the end of it, but as part of your contract to this life you were dealt with— your wishes rarely came true.

You closed yours eyes for a few seconds before opening them again to relieve a sigh. The feeling of the wind hitting your face gave some relief from the humid air that’s been surrounding the town of Ormond for the month of August. As much as you loved the sun—it's presence giving you energy that’s hard to come by in your life, you couldn’t wait for the transition of weathers by the next week.

As Ormond rolls into another September, the summer’s heat will come into an end and you’ll finally enjoy the coldness that tags along with fall and winter.

Not only could you wear turtle necks without being questions by others at school who really are just too nosy for their own good; but you can finally see everything be covered in snow. A change of scenery will help the otherwise dull town.

The thought encouraged you to go a little faster, putting more pressure on your legs as they pushed you forward. Despite the rough feeling of the cracks on the road, you had no fear of falling. After the whole of rolling skating to spend most of the afternoons away, you grown comfortable and confident in your abilities to skate.

The beats of the song only made you push faster.

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain

There wasn’t time to notice the car making its way down the road behind you before it’s loud honking caused a falter in your moment, skates rolling to a halt. You moved towards the side of the road , closer to the woods as you wobbled slightly to regain your balance.

You can prevent yourself from falling off your skates but not from getting hit by a car apparently.

A familiar voice scolding you at the back of your mind for your carelessness plagued your thoughts as you expected for the driver to pass you. Frank’s irritated face bringing an amused smile.

Hours could go by and not a single soul would drive this road, so you half expected the sheriffs own car to drive pass you. You waited to hear a small comment about you being more careful for the 10th time this summer. It was a surprise when you saw in the corner of your eye a different vehicle slowing to a halt.

You should have began to skate faster, you weren’t naive to the perverts that littered your town. You couldnt count the amount of times you catched middle age men watch you skate. But a small glance at the car had you pausing. The model catching your attention.

Hm. Impressive.

You werent an expert in cars but you could tell it was a vintage one, probably costing more than whatever the hell your foster parents were obtaining in the year of having you under their care. It definitely looked different from what you see in Ormond.

We can be like they are.

Admiring the black paint shining at you, reflection staring back at you , the window finally rolled down revealing a single passenger.

“Ah, sorry to scare you like that” The man leaned out the window slightly, awkwardly placing his arm on top of the rolled down glass. “ Didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

The headphones were removed from your ears, placed around your neck as you look at the stranger before you. Music blaring loud enough for you to make out the singer’s voice.

Red locks hanging over his forehead, tipping against glasses that framed his eyes as he squinted up at you through them, a friendly smile playing on his lips. Sinister intend hidden so well that you relaxed under the kind gaze.

Come on baby. (Don’t fear the reaper)

“Sorry mister, usually I pay more attention when I skate on this road.”

He nodded, watching you fiddle with the headset and tilt your head at him. He seemed amused with how you addressed him. Years of dealing with adults who liked to abuse their authority over you taught you a few things. Addressing them in a way that makes them feel better about themselves helped In terms of surviving and making them drop their guards.

It makes them trust you.

Although the red head didn’t look that much older, maybe still in his early twenties. You continued to take his appearance from what you were given. Green plaid shirt peeking out from a blue jacket. You noticed the pen that was perfectly placed behind his ear, nearly hidden by the strands of red hair that fell over it. He must be a writer of some sort.

The thought finally made you realize that he was an unfamiliar face. In a town like Ormond, it was uncommon for you to meet anyone new.

“You visiting someone here mister ?”

“Ah” The man flashed another soft smile before holding out a pocket notebook out. “I'm actually here to report some news for my newspaper.”

So you were right.You stood up straighter, satisfied with the knowledge that you read him right.

“Oh cool!” You glanced at the notebook and hummed. “But not much happens here so you probably won’t report much.”

“Im guessing you haven’t heard what’s been happening in the other towns then.”

Your fingers twitches against your thigh as you shook your head. You willed yourself to never look into the news from anything outside of Ormond. Afraid of what you were to find.

“I guess it wasn't that interesting enough to reach all over here.” You reply, shrugging. It sounded a bit rude, but you were beginning to itch all over.

“Oh, it will eventually.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, you crossed your arms and looked down the road. The sun was finally starting to descend behind the trees concluding that it was time for you to head home. If you left now now , you’ll be able to make it home before your foster dad made it home.

The thought alone bringing some tensions to your temple.

“Do you need directions towards a motel? There’s one just a few minutes down this road, pretty much the first thing you’ll see out of these trees.”

“Thanks.” He looks down the road, he fixes his glasses and looks at you again. “Do you need a ride ?”

You thought about it. It would be nice to hitch a ride in the nice car. And he seemed nice enough, with the way he looked at you with no pressure,giving you the option.

So you decided against it. With a shake in your head, you gesture towards your skates.

“I trust these bad boys to get me home.” You joke, tapping the back wheel on the pavement. The male nodding as he leaned back into his car.

“Lets hope so. You don’t want to be out after it gets dark.”

You blink at the warning, watching him give you one last smile before he drove off. There was nothing but drunk assholes to worry about in the nights of Ormond. It was just another dull town that wasn’t going to add nothing to whatever story he was hoping to find.

Baby take my hand. Don’t fear the reaper.

~

“Bye Mr. Richards!” You yell as you exit the small convenience store. The older man grumbles something along the lines of being careful, knowing that the only thing you're focused on is the bag of m&ms you managed to get for free.

You slowed down while opening the small bag, pouring a few on your palm before tossing it back in your mouth.

The sky was starting to darken, going from a bright blue to almost a purple hue behind the few clouds. You took note of the time on the clock behind the store counter when you pretended to Mr. Richards you had forgotten your change. 5:45 pm. There was still time before your old man got home.

Skating lazily past many stores, some signs already had flipped over to CLOSED, you were about cross the street to your neighborhood block when you noticed a familiar red truck.

Frank pulled up to the stop sign, his eyes notcatching yours yet. His tattooed hand tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. The vibration of the music that you’ve grown used to dealing with could almost be be felt through his rolled up window. His other arm was propped up on the car door, head tilt slighting as though lost in thought.

You had a small thought of getting his attention, but seeing a blonde sitting in passenger seat had his name getting caught in your throat. She immediately saw you, an amused smile that looked mocking growing on her face. A flush disturbing your body when she says something which makes Frank look towards you. The idea of him taking your appearance embarrassing you suddenly.

Your denim shorts and purple and black stripped top, along with the high knee socks that went with your red roller skates all of sudden made you feel—small. There was never this type of shame when it came to Frank, you both seen each other at your worst. He seen you with your acne ridden face and you seen him with his choppy haircuts he tried giving himself in the orphanage bathroom.

You loved your outfit, you did. You picked it out yourself for once when you picked up a few bucks from walking the neighbors dog last summer. It was thrifted but still felt brand new. But seeing Julie with her leather jackets and combat boots that went along with her more punk and dark aesthetic always made you feel lesser in a way. Especially since Frank clearly liked it because well— he was dating her. He liked his whole group of new friends that followed the same life style. He liked them so much that he wasn’t hanging with you as much. The blame isn’t entirely on him, you rejected his many proposals of you joining the group. You just weren’t like them.

You can’t be like them. You won’t be like them.

Frank doesn’t copy Julies own amused look, instead he throws you a soft smile. One that you awkwardly give back. His soft gaze is interrupted by Julie saying something to catch his attention. Frank’s jaws harden as his eyes drift away from yours and snaps at the blondes directions. You look away and finish skating across the street before you can try to piece together what was said.

The flush doesn’t leave your body the entire way home. Only when you throw your skates to the side in the garage and head up the two steps to the entrance that leads to the kitchen, you let yourself have a deep breathe. The bag of m&ms lay abandoned on the counter while you grab a glass of water.

You missed Frank. Sure, you both hung out a handful of times this summer but it wasn’t like the years before. You cherished those times, even the few times he called this summer and finally asked to hang, just the two of you. Those moments gave you hope despite the new distance. Even now, your eyes glancing towards the telephone that hung on the kitchen wall. You idled in the kitchen for a few minutes, nursing the glass of water as you continued to take sips from it.

The sound of a car pulling into the garage finally has you snap out of your thoughts. You looked down at the empty glass and sighed. No excuse now. You reluctantly placed it in the sink before retreating to your room. Ignoring your foster dad’s heavy footsteps entering the house before you closed your bedroom door. You could only listen as he moved around the house. The bag of m&ms being a victim to his sticky hands. He finally makes his way to his bedroom and slamming it shut.

This part of the day was something you dreaded. The silence that filled the home. The natural light that escapes your room when the sun finally disappears, leaving you with only the street lamps to flash an orange glow onto your walls. You hated the darkness, no time being wasted for you to turn on the lamp near your desk. The sudden brightness comforting as you lay back down.

Before you could let yourself be swallowed by your thoughts again, a sudden shrill breaks through the walls of your room.

The phone.

It continues to ring when you make it out your room in a hurry, hoping Frank doesn’t give up so soon. It’s shameful the way you snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” You say breathily, flinching at how you sound. You clear your throat as you wait to hear a voice on the other side. But nothing comes. Silence.

“Um..hello?” You repeat.

Nothing.

You listen, catching of what sounds like someone breathing. It was faint, just enough to tell you that someone was on the other line. God please don’t let this be some pervert, You heard weird stories about men getting off at just hearing a girls voice on the phone.

Or maybe it was Frank messing with you. The phone is pulled from your ear and you debate hanging up but you try one more time.

“Helloooo?” You say , letting out a half laugh from your nerves. “Can you hear me? Frank, is that you?”

Still just…silence. You’re about to speak again but it clicks. They hung up. You look at the phone hesitantly place it back on the wall. The moment it’s back , the phone rings again.

“Hello.” You answer again, a bit more forceful and expecting for them to continue to just listen to you talk and hang up again but you’re met with someone clicking their tongue.

“Well hello to you too sweets.”

Franks voice registers in your mind and your shoulders relax.

“Oh..hi Frank” You sigh in relief. “Jesus were you not able to hear me before?”

“What do you mean?” He says coolly, you could hear him moving, his bed springs creaking under his weight.

“When you called before— I kept repeating myself and all I heard was you breathing like a creep.” You huff. The coily wire from the phone was wrapped around your finger.

“Wasn’t me. I called you just right now.” He replies puzzlingly, he sounds concern and you frown at the realization. He waits before chuckling. “Damn, don’t tell me you’re giving some creep his fill for the night.”

“Gross” Your hand motions with the wire stop and you make a face at that. “What if Steve answered?”

The thought of your foster dad has Frank letting out another chuckle. “I’m sure the bastard would’ve loved that even more.”

“Frank!” You half whisper, looking into the hallway hoping the bedroom door doesn’t open. A giggle still escapes as much as you try to hold it back.

You don’t know it, but Frank smiles at the sound. A comfortable silence fill the phone for a moment, before he breaks it.

“Go down the same route today?”

You looked at down at your socks, rolling one of your sore ankles.

“Yup. Down the road away from Ormond and back.” You answer. “Went a bit past that run down water tower before heading back.”

“That’s far.”

“I wish I could go farther.”

Frank hums at that. A mutual feeling between you both.

“Did that old pig catch up to you?”

“Sheriff McCall? No but some tourist—well not really a tourist—a journalist did.” You ramble, glancing out the window. “I didn’t even hear him drive up behind me before his honking made me almost eat pavement ! I’m sure McCall would be happy to tell me that he told me so.”

“A journalist?” Frank scoffs.

“Yeah, he stopped to apologize and I noticed he definitely wasn’t from here. He had a pretty cool car by the way—oh and I asked and he said that he was doing some type of news report here.”

“Probably to warn people from ever entering this shit hole.” He concludes. “Why else would the fucker be here.”

You snort. It was satisfying knowing Frank had the same thought that you had.

You contemplated on telling him what else the journalist said about the other towns but he stops you suddenly. His voice is hesitant, as though he’s revealing something. A topic that was sensitive enough to steer the conversation in a way that neither of you were prepared to fully deal with.

“You could have..you know, called and ask me to tag along.”

You swallow hard and half shrugging, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. Julie in his passenger seat coming to mind. “ You seemed busy anyway.”

You wanted to return the sudden list of questions he was presenting to you tonight and ask what he and Julie did to spend their time on the last week leading up the new school year.

Did they drive around town, visiting spots that every couple tend to hang out at? The diner or the park where everyone parks to smoke cigarettes or weed. Did they spend the afternoon by themselves or did the rest of the group join them. Did they go to the ormond resort that he always disappears to nowadays?

You hated the idea of any it. The image of Frank having Julie by his side— his friends company that apparently was better than yours while you skated alone. You kept the questions to yourself, rather not knowing.

“I would have bailed” He finally answers. His voice tensed.

“Right.”

You knew he wouldn’t have. He should have known that statement before was going to ruin the whole conversation.

Things got quiet again. Why was it always too quiet between you two now? What was the shift in the last year that you seemed to ignore? You could rack your brain for hours and you couldn’t pinpoint a moment.

Could he?

Frank seemed to have made up his mind on what to say but you already had cut him off before you could notice it.

“I should go. Mary will be coming home soon and would want me to start helping with dinner.”

Frank is silent for a beat too long and you decide to make it easier on him. Not knowing that his own heart broke the same way yours was.

“Goodnight Frank.”

You faintly heard his voice a second before you hung up.

“Goodnight.”

[tricoufamily]

i am once again playing musical chairs w my sims now HE'S the companion piece to THIS sim i'm changing the universe again. pyromaniac guy idk maybe he'll go back to that mobster guy?? anyway. sim

[lanabenikosdoormat]

jed durge isn’t real he can’t hurt you

jed durge:

[arttsuka]

Fishies

[bartletslesbians]

Jed playing chess with his staff will always be such a nice thing actually. I think Josh might be the only one we don't see him play chess with out of the senior staff?? Which is a shame but in all fairness Josh doesn't strike me as a chess player (neither was CJ but they made do LMAO). It's just a nice relaxed Activity with his senior staff and Leo and that's lovely

[d34dg1rl5]

Chase

In the heart-pounding realm of the Entity, where every moment is fraught with danger and fear, (Y/N) found themselves trapped in a nightmarish chase with Ghostface, the embodiment of terror itself. But what made this chase all the more complicated was (Y/N)'s conflicting emotions—they had a crush on Ghostface, despite the imminent threat to their life.

It began like any other match, with (Y/N) finding themselves transported to the eerie realm known as the MacMillan Estate. The fog was thick, obscuring vision, and the sound of a heartbeat thudded ominously in their ears. They knew they were not alone.

As they cautiously moved through the desolate landscape, trying to evade the killer's gaze, they couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. And indeed, they were right. Ghostface, with his iconic mask and chilling presence, was stalking them, his knife glinting in the moonlight.

But strangely, amidst the fear, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement whenever Ghostface drew near. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the chase or the forbidden allure of danger, but (Y/N)'s heart raced for reasons beyond mere survival.

As the chase intensified, with (Y/N) narrowly dodging Ghostface's swings and vaulting over obstacles, they found themselves drawn deeper into the twisted game of cat and mouse. But with each close encounter, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the undeniable chemistry between them and Ghostface, even amidst the terror.

Despite their feelings, (Y/N) knew they had to survive. They had to escape this relentless pursuer. With every ounce of strength and cunning they possessed, they devised a plan. They led Ghostface on a wild chase through the Estate, ducking and weaving through the labyrinthine structures, until finally, they found themselves at the exit gates.

But just as victory seemed within reach, Ghostface appeared once more, blocking their path. For a moment, (Y/N) froze, torn between fear and desire. But then, with a surge of determination, they made their move.

With a swift and daring maneuver, (Y/N) managed to outmaneuver Ghostface, slipping past him and through the open gate to freedom. As they sprinted into the darkness, heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through their veins, they couldn't help but steal a glance back at Ghostface.

And in that moment, amidst the chaos and danger, (Y/N) saw something unexpected in Ghostface's eyes—perhaps a hint of admiration, or even something more. But there was no time to dwell on it, as they disappeared into the night, leaving behind the enigmatic killer they couldn't help but be drawn to.

A/N: Hello everyone! I tried something different today - thats right, i used a gender neutral reader instead of a female one. I hope yall like it and let me know if yall want more of gender neutral reader!

[lorimnnn]

Hi! I really liked your Ghostface crybaby! Post! I was wandering if your requests are open if you’d write a Ghostface with a unrequited survivor/reader/yn where Ghostface has the hots but the survivor/yn just ain’t feeling it. If requests aren’t open plz ignore! But seriously love your work! Totally made my day!

ahhhh i usually hate angsty things like this so I actually considering not doing it.... but the potential was too good to resist. ty for your kind words, i seriously love writing up requests <3

p.s. i accidentally deleted it and got so unmotivated :((((( here it is though

the second he sees you he's convinced the entity has sent him a gift. you're literally his type head to toe and while he's insanely attracted to you, he's twice as excited to kill you

you become his obsession.

over. and over again.

your teammates realise that he will always go after you first if he can and they abuse this fact to an inch of it's life. you understand, of course.

you hate pain. the innocent type, the sweet type. compassionate to a fault even if it's plunged you into pain again and again.

Ghostface wants to break you

there is a perverse thrill in seeing you helpless in the dirt, sobbing, begging him to stop. he has to have mori-d you one thousand times across all the trials you've had together, now. but it never hurts any less and you never get used to it.

you don't seem to understand that this is a game, either. it's like real life.

"God, you're hot." His breath shutters in his throat as he takes you in, bloody and shivering on the ground. The Entity had been feeling generous recently and because of his good behaviour, had put you in a skimpy little dress.

You whimper when he nears.

"No, no no," you say, trying to back away from him. "Please."

"You know it turns me on when you beg, babe."

You sob harder when he crouches, weaving one hand into the back of your hair to haul you upright and against him. As always, he's deceivingly gentle. If not for his wondering hands you'd think he felt bad for you--- but that was never the case.

"Please stop," you say again.

"Now why would I do that?" He combs his gloved hand through your hair. The metallic scent of your blood has him dizzy and plunged into a haze that is purely you. You, you, you. Sometimes he swears he could care less about hurting you. He just wants to see you. Your face, contorting with pain, with a smile, with---

So maybe he liked you a little.

"I know I'm your favourite," he says confidently, and then rearranges you to sit in his lap. You sniffle. He groans.

You're so cute.

And you can't help it, even if you're afraid of him--- by nature you've always been obedient and timid and good. So good. It had costed you everything by the end.

It makes him feel so powerful.

Makes you feel so small.

"I'll give you the hatch if you play nice today," he lies. He rubs your thigh and nuzzles your hair, the plastic probing into your bruised flesh. "Hm? What about it?"

You hate him.

You hate him so much.

And before you know it, it's falling out of your mouth, bitter and harsh and sapping almost all of your remaining energy.

"I hate you. Fuck you."

It's so unexpected that he flinches.

He knows you're not best friends or anything, but he never prepared himself to hear it. and it was different

it actually hurt

and you said in the same way the he claimed to like you--- eternally, unchanging, unaltered

was it the continuous mori-ing?

you had to understand that everything in-trial was purely business, even if he did get a good kick out of it. after a while he'd gotten used to how naive you were and assumed he could twist it to fit his ways

he underestimated you

and he hates himself for feeling like he doesn't know you when you say this, because he's obsessed in every sense of the word. he watches you at the campfire, doting on your teammates. so kind. bright, smiley. then you would cry yourself to sleep and he would only feel the littlest bit bad, but not enough to count

but he should have guessed it

he shouldn't feel hurt by it, either--- you're his victim first and foremost. his beautiful, kind, compassionate victim who he wanted to lock away and protect as much as he wanted to hurt.

he'd never seen you so set in your ways before. so strong. it was a complete contrast to your usual soft-spoken shyness.

He blinked, incredulous. "Aw, sweetheart. I'm sure it isn't personal."

"I hope you die in a ditch."

"You killing me would be hot."

You don't laugh.

Now he's starting to panic a little, because usually he can ignore it. You never laugh. But he can't deny it now.

You hate him.

More than anything in this plane of existence. And that's a problem. Because after this trial, it quickly occurs to him that he doesn't only like you, but likes you a lot. More than he should be allowed. Against his own will he finds his work ethic challenged and his sadistic pleasure dwindling into his guilt, his sole motivation to stay sane in this shitty reality. Now he doesn't know what to make of it.

What was he supposed to do?

He tries everything after that. He genuinely starts trying to give you the hatch and now you're slamming pallets over his head with twice as much of force.

He starts getting artsy with his pictures of you. You're actually alive in these ones. You throw every single one into the fire.

Fuck. He even consults Bubba for help and picks out a bunch of flowers to give to you alongside a heartfelt apology, but you laugh in his face.

it hurts

it hurts even more when you leave and cuddle up to some of the survivors--- the people who left you behind time and time again. the fact that you'd rather them over him spoke volumes and he would find himself incurably jealous.

he couldn't even hurt them to get over it because it would only make you hate him more

for the first time in his life, Jed Olsen regretted killing. It had led him to you and also driven the two of you apart with twice as much force

he hates it

he hates what you've done to him and he hates that he's starting to love you and he hates, most of all---

the fact you will never love him back

[girlkisser13]

legacies masterlist

elizabeth "lizzie" saltzman

ethan machado

hope mikaelson

jade salvatore

jedidiah "jed" tien

josette "josie" saltzman

kaleb hawkins

landon kirby

milton "mg" greasley

penelope park

rafael waithe

sebastian

[florestmoon]

Eye For An Eye Ch. 3 (Ghostface X Reader X Frank Morrison)

Summary: Frank struggles with the Legion questioning his role in their group and you come face to face with a ghostly figure.

A/N: sorry this took so long to come out ! Updates may be random but I’ll try my best to update every week if work from now on if doesn’t kick my ass lol. I hope you enjoy <33

I’m all out of hope

One more bad dream

Could bring a fall…

A flame flickered weakly, barely standing for a second before disappearing once again. Despite Frank’s thumb aggressively pushing down on the lighter with no break, it didn’t seem to plan to make an appearance again. It mocked the older teen, the abuse ending when he finally threw it towards the passenger seat.

“Fuck.” Frank hisses. He lets the cigarette sit between his lips as he leans back in his seat defeated and looks out his window. He was parked near a stop sign in a corner. Street lights flickering on as he takes in the view of the whole street.

It was dark enough now that most people were already home from work, a few houses had their porch lights on and he could make out shadows moving around behind closed curtains. One particular window had his attention set on it, the baby blue curtains— that he’s pushed aside many times to sneak through— were lit up by a warm yellow light.

He watched for a moment, hoping to catch any movement. A glimpse of a silhouette that would indicate that you were in your room. Anything that would let his imagination run wild of what you could be doing.

Were you in bed already? He sees you laying on your stomach, ankles crossed in the air as you read your favorite book. A view he would always admire from where he was sat on your bedroom floor, supposed to be focused on something entirely else but his eyes couldn’t leave you.

Would you be reading a new book that you borrowed from the public library or were you rereading that one Stephen king novel that he stole for you?

Or maybe you were sitting at your desk, working out the ridiculous long math equations that Mr. Brown always assigned on Fridays? No. You were always the type to try to finish it that same night even if you had all weekend.

When I’m far from home

Don’t call me on the phone

To tell me you’re alone..

There was nothing. No movement. No shadows. Only Steve’s car was in the drive way, but there was no sight of a bike or roller skates littered across the pavement that directed toward your home.

There was no sign of you anywhere. It made Frank feel restless, it seemed wrong. But there was also nothing in Frank. Nothing to give him the excuse, or even the courage to get out of his truck and make his way to the side of the house.

Nothing for him to knock on the glass and hope that you would open it for him, like you have many times before.

It’s easy to deceive

It’s easy to tease

But hard to get release…

The music that was the only sound in the silent cold night cuts shorts as the cassette tape is ripped from its place in the car stereo, thrown aside just like the lighter before. It had been a gift that he cherished but now only further pushed the empty feeling in his chest.

He had nothing but to blame himself for it all. The look of hurt replayed in his head as he finally forces himself to start his truck and leave before he did something else that he regretted. The emptiness in his chest begin tightening, twisting and burning into something else.

It grew into a feeling he was all too familiar with, something he was better at dealing with as he drove out of the neighborhood, and towards the other side of town.

~~~~

Frank was fucking angry.

Not only was the headache, that pulsated against his temples every second, but also the chatter between the three teenagers sitting next to him was beginning to piss him off even more. The constant clinking of the fork against the plate nearly had him slamming his hand on top of the Susie’s to stop the damn noise.

Jesus were they always this fucking loud?

“And then he fired me!” Joey groans and bows his head into his hands. His shoulders sank as Susie patted his arm, frowning sympathetically while Julie threw her own spoon down on the plate.

The sound made Frank’s eye twitch and he refrained from nudging the blonde girl’s arm who was basically pressed against him in the small booth.

“Because you were late 5 minutes one time?” She scoffs. “That’s total bullshit Joey and you know that.”

It seemed he wasn’t the only one bothered by the teens noisy conversation, a waitress that had just sat the plate of cheesecake down on their table and was walking away, shook her head as she went back behind the counter and begin to clean the top of it.

The diner was almost empty, expect for the teens and two other customers. The closest to them was sat on a stool in front of said counter, red hair standing out as it covered the persons face who hunched over what seemed to be a notepad, scribbling away.

Another was sat on the opposite side of the restaurant from the teens, a man with a trucker hat and two cups of coffee in front of him. They both seemed to ignore the ruckus, eyes glued on the tv placed on the wall behind the waitress.

In the tiny screen, a news reporter stood in front of a home that was surrounded by police cars and the front lawn decorated with yellow caution tape. Her face was stoic but the slight quiver of her lips betrayed her attempts for the camera.

“..two brutal murders. 24 year old, Dwight Fairfield and 19 year old, Meg Thomas were the recent victims of what many believe a serial killer on the loose. Authorities have yet to make a statement…”

“Frank?”

He tears his eyes away from the two pictures, a scrawny nerdy man with glasses and another of a red head girl who was posing with other two girls, holding medals in running gear.

Susie was staring at him, with a look that she always gives him whenever she notices him not indulging in whatever stupid high school gossip they deemed interesting for the day. The plate of cheesecake was pushed towards him, and Frank refrained from frowning at the act of kindness from her.

She reminded him too much of you. The gentleness the girl held around her. Even when Frank was being a complete asshole to any of them, she never failed to try to make sure things were right. The look of worry she constantly threw towards him in the moments where she wasn’t afraid to make eye contact.

But that was the difference. She was still afraid of him, but you? The intense eye contact you held the day before was proof of that. You were never afraid of Frank.

The look of hurt flashed in his mind again.

“I’m good.” He pushed it back towards her. It came out more aggressive then he wanted but it didn’t go unnoticed as Julie snaps her head towards him. Now, her usual look to Frank not paying attention to them was a mix of annoyance and confusion.

“Whats your deal?”She scowls and he refrains from rolling his eyes at her attitude. “Have you been listening to anything we were saying? About Joey losing his job?”

“Nothing.” He answers flatly, eyes moving towards Joey who sinks into his seat at the sudden attention. “How many times do I have to listen to you bitch about this ? Didn’t I tell you to just quit or-“

“God, Frank. You are such a dick.” Julie cuts him off and lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Don’t you think we should do something about it?”

This time Frank laughs and shakes his head. “What? Want me to rob the place? Take the few bucks that store even makes.”

“We can rob more than that.” She argues.

“Oh yeah then we can all go fishing with all our gear and fishing rods.” Frank rolls his eyes and tilts his head back , rubbing his temple as he sighs again. Julie was still staring at him with that usual defiance in her eyes.

His patience was beginning to wear thin. The strike of every painful pulse against temple was beginning to become unbearable. He should have never agreed to come out with them. Maybe he should have found something in him to cross your yard and look for you through that window.

“Maybe.” She finally snaps back. “It’s not like you have much else to do after getting expelled over a stupid joke that Billy made.”

Joke. A joke?

The pulsating headache disappeared. It seemed to have traveled from his head to the rest of his body. That anger that was floating under the surface, a slight tug that was avoidable — now was flowing throughout his veins, shaking, quivering under his skin as he remembers that ‘joke’ Billy had felt brave enough to utter when Frank was passing by him in the cafeteria.

“What the fuck did you say?” Frank had stopped dead in his tracks. The table full of stoners had gone quiet, his deadly stare cutting their laughter short. It was almost comical the way most of the tables near by followed suit with their own tense silence. Did they really think Frank wouldn’t hear your name being mentioned ?

Billy, who had been leaning against the girl next to him, his own laughter fading after he failed to notice the known delinquent, blinked up at Frank with wide eyes. He swallowed hard and tries to play it cool. “What? “

“You were talking about y/n.” Frank states, ignoring Julie’s attempt to grab his arm as he grabs a handful of Billy’s shirt and pulls him up from the bench. Now all eyes in the cafeteria were on them. Even the lunch ladies forgot about the food they were hanging out. “I said. What. Did. You. Say.”

“Cmon man.” Billy voice wavers. “Didn’t you hear ? All..all summer people have been talking about it.”

“I wouldn’t be here asking you , would I dipshit?” Frank tightens his grip and he would laugh at the way Billy lets out a pathetic whimper if he didn’t feel his body shaking from anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Billy hesitates for a second , regret written all over his face but he decides his fate was already clear, so he spits it out.

“They were saying the freak was seen skating all around town..going to trailer parks” He pauses, wincing and preparing himself. “And that she was giving it up to half the to—“

Billy didn’t get to finish whatever stupid rumor the school had decided to start the year with. He was on the ground before any teacher noticed what was happening. Frank’s fist stung with every punch he decorated Billy’s face with. It’s all he felt , his mind blocking everybody else out. Julie’s yelling for him to stop or the yell of his name by two different teachers across the room fell mute to his ears.

His only focus was the stinging, radiating from his fist to the rest of him. Not even the sight of blood dripping onto the floor had him stopping, it fueled him even on.

He couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of it on his fist.

“You think that was a joke?” Frank hardens his voice and looks at her warningly. “You think it was funny?”

“I think it wasn’t such a big deal. I mean, have you heard half the shit they say about that freak—“

“Shut the fuck up Jules.”

This time she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at the rest of the group, who were watching them both with uneasiness. Their eyes unsure who to focus on , moving from Frank to Julie, and Julie to Frank rapidly.

“If you’re willing to defend her over one of the many rumors that spreads through this town, why can’t you back up one of your friends being fired unfairly?”

She’s challenging him. She was actually challenging him. The slight lift in the corner of her lips, a smugness that was barely kept hidden in her expression. She knew what she was doing. Frank almost wanted to laugh because who the fuck did she think she was?

When he looked at Susie and Joey, their expression were twisting into realization of her implications. Suddenly, all their eyes were on him. It was a scene that Frank should be use to. His legion all staring at him like he was their leader, like he had all the answers. He used to relish in those moments, taking in the feeling of being in control.

But now, they were staring at him with..uncertainty. And it angered him.

Do they think he’s gone soft? Julie had watched him go quiet whenever they were out during the summer and he noticed you skating down the road. It was hard not to notice you, your carefree aura would attract anyone towards you. Did she notice the times Frank would suddenly make an excuse to cut their date shorts?

She couldn’t have known about the few times he’s dropped her off and made his way towards your neighborhood, or the times he rushed home hoping that his phone call didn’t go straight to voicemail.

No. Frank wasn’t fucking soft. Didn’t they see how bad he had beaten Billy the day before? Don’t they remember who came in and changed their pathetic little group? They were nothing before him. He was the one that made their lives interesting. He was the one that wasn’t afraid to steal whatever makeup Julie wanted or tag a building that Joey had pointed out.

Frank Morisson wasn’t afraid of anything.

Even if he couldn’t bring himself to cross that yard and towards your window—

“Fine.” He snaps. Julie smile grows in excitement. “We’ll go and fuck up the place, and steal whatever money we can.”

“Really?” Joey perks up at Frank. He can’t help but admit the admiration in his eyes made him feel good.

“Yeah. But not tonight. Let’s wait a bit. It’ll be too obvious if we hit the place tonight.” He scans the group to make sure they understood, their excitement contagious and he smirks.

“Next week. We’ll make the fucker regret for messing with one of us.”

~~~~~

You were halfway done with your cigarette when laughter ran out from far away. A group of familiar faces enter the pathway, too busy laughing and disturbing the quiet that surrounded the park moments before, to notice you sitting on a bench.

The cigarette was still jutting out of your mouth, burning away as you debate whether or not it was worth dealing with the few jabs that was expected to be thrown your way.

It was an option not worth debating. Who in their right mind would want to deal with Sarah Thatcher and Chris Anderson ? The two were walking hand in hand in front of the rest of the group, throwing their heads back in laughter as they followed them like lost puppies wagging to tails for approval. Whoever made the joke was probably creaming their pants at the sight of it, getting their fix for the day.

Defeatedly, you took one last drag before flipping the cigarette towards the concrete in front of you. It was the last cigarette Steve had in his pack and you knew that was your last chance to steal one for a few days. It was easier to convince the sucker he has smoked his last one when he was on his 10th beer of the day.

You snubbed it out with your sneaker after you stood up from the wooden bench and wasted no time to grab your bike, kicking in the side stand. Gravel grates beneath your hurried footsteps when you attempt to make a quick getaway towards the path that lead to your favorite shortcut. It catches the attention of the head of the pack.

“Hey y/n!”

You hoped they didn’t notice the slight falter in your steps when you continue to walk away and not pay mind to them.

“How much you charging today? 5 dollars?” A roar of laugh follows and your cheeks burn in humiliation. “I think my friend Billy over here is interested. Come on slut, you owe it to him!”

You can’t help but throw up your hand, showing them the finger before you disappear into the entrance of the woods, gravel turning into dirt accompanied by the dozens of trees. A choir of Ohhhh echo while you walk deeper into the trees. A few more insults are thrown at you, a sharp bitch and slut fade the more you walk.

Couldn’t they decide what to call you at this point? Last year you were a freak and no one bothered to be near you, now one summer changes that and everyone decided to start calling you a slut and whore. Which was ironic considering half the girls in school could be under that category.

You really couldn’t care less, at least that’s what you like to tell your self. A tear escapes from the corner of your eye and you wipe it frustratingly. God. At least last year the term freak wasn’t not true. You were different. Your past was proof of that, but no one knows that.

They couldn’t.

Dead leaves crunch under your foot and the wheels of the bike, the only noise accompanying you on your walk home.

You’re halfway through your shortcut when you decide that deafening silence of the woods was too much. You stop walking, reaching into the basket attached to your bike and grab the walkman that you cherished so much. Unwrapping the wired headphones, you click play on the tape, forgetting which one you decided to bring.

The muffled beat and lyrics could be heard from the headphones in hand as you take your time attaching the body to your jean shorts.

I spent so much time

Believing all the lies

To keep the dream alive…

Crunch..Crunch..

Your head whips around towards the source of the noise. Your hands pause from struggling with the walkman, your whole body freezing at the realization you weren’t alone. You scan between the trees, a sudden bloom of uneasiness sits at the pit of your stomach. The sound had stopped the moment you looked, only the faint sound of Billy Idol’s voice and the slow thump thump of your heartbeat that you suddenly became painfully aware of rang in your ears.

Yet, despite these two sounds, the woods atmosphere seemed to have shift. The peaceful silence transition into something else..

It was still. Too still. The stillness made it where a slight movement in the peripheral of your vision became notable.

You turned towards it but it disappeared as quirky as it came.

What the fuck?

A tree stays as a center point of your attention. Whatever had moved a moment before, it had disappeared right behind that tree. Was someone following you? How did you not notice them before ?

“Hello?”

Your heart beat was faster now, beating hard in your ears and wrists as well as in your chest. Did Chris decide that throwing insults towards you was not enough? Did they really decide to change their Sunday plans and follow you through the woods ?

“This isn’t funny guys. You really got nothing else to do?” You spit out, gripping the handles of your bike tightly and attempting to swallow down the anxiety that was making your whole body shiver. You swear you could see slight movement behind the tree, a shadow, or something was trying to stay still.

Fuck this. You thought. Insults was one thing, but being followed into the woods and being made to feel like prey was a whole other situation you didn’t want to be involved in. In a split second, you looked down at your walkman to shove it in your pocket and you a loud crack of a twig breaking has you looking up again.

This time you weren’t met with just trees and the cloudy sky between the open spaces. No, there was a figure standing right next to the tree you were staring at before.

The booming in your ear stopped. Your body running cold as your breath hitched at the sight of the ghost white mask. Well—It was a ghost mask. The stretched out mouth gave it a image of a ghost wailing, blackened eyes staring right at you. The sight had you jerking back, the sudden act not preparing you for your foot to tangle with your forgotten headphones, the long wire tripping you. You had no time to stop yourself from crashing back into your bike, and landing on the floor with it.

Pain pulsates through your side but you can’t bring yourself to pay mind to it, scrambling on the dirt and pushing your self away from your bike. You lift your back from the ground and sit up to see the figure was still standing there. You didn’t bother brushing your hair out of your face as you stared dumbfounded. They were wearing all black beside the mask. It tilted slightly as though amused by your misfortune.

‘What..” You whisper to yourself. How did they have time to change? What was up with the mask? You didn’t dare to look around although you half hoped to see Sarah or another classmate with a camcorder in hand. Anything, laughter or even an insult to prove to you that you shouldn’t feel as afraid as you do now.

Once you saw the knife glistening in your gloved hands, you decided this was enough.

Bike forgotten, you scrambled to your feet ignoring the stabs of sticks in your palm when you push yourself up and made a run for it. It wasn’t graceful at first, the sudden panic had you stumbling forward your first few steps, hands grasping at the trees that directed your path. It was a path you taken almost everyday after school so you knew you had 30 seconds or less before you would push past a few branches hanging overhead and you would be greeted by the street to your block.

Your own heavy footsteps weren’t the only ones. The quick crunching of leaves forced you to look behind you, a gasp of horror escaping you when you see the figure was following right behind.

A twist of your ankle forces you flying forward, breaking through said branches, and crashing onto the street. Hot flashes of pain pinch at your knees who faced most of the impact, your short cry of pain going unnoticed in the empty street. You rolled over, struggling to stand again while your eyes never left the woods.

Now that you were already out in the open, despite the fact that there were no cars and most homes gave no sign of life, you knew that whoever was following wouldn’t dare to do anything now. Surely there was someone that could hear you scream.

You waited for anything—anyone to show themselves from inside the trees but there was nothing. No one even had the decency to show themselves. No rings of laughter followed suite, no one laughing at the pathetic scene of you managing to injure yourself.

“Oh my god” Sarah would have laughed. “You should have seen the look on your face !”

But..

Nothing.

You hold onto your stomach in attempt to control your breathing. The panic was still rolling through you in waves and the pain the impact had caused was become more noticeable. You note for a moment that your walkman wasn’t in your pocket.

Great. Not only did you lose your bike but one of your favorite tapes. The idea of going back popped in your head—Yeah. No.

You waste no time in hurrying down the street, wincing through each step that furthered the pain in your legs before you got to your driveway.

“Whafuck happen t’you?” Steve slurred once you entered the living room. It reeked of beer and shitty cologne , furthering your mood. You only had half the energy to acknowledge him with a disgusted look, attempting to walk past him but his hand gripped your arm.

“Hey..yourenot causing trouble are you? I donwant thaf stupid cop banging on my door.”

“No Steve.” You pull your arm away and try not to stumble back. God, you were trying really hard not to cry right now. The adrenaline was starting to wear off. “Some assholes from school played a cruel prank on me. It went too far.”

“Hm..” He watches you for a moment and you glare at the floor. His hand reaches up to grab a small stick from your hair and inspects it. He had you nearly backed up against the wall, the lack of space between you two only furthered the burning in your eyes.

Don’t cry. Dont cry.

He finally lets out a snorted laugh. You couldn’t help but compare him to a pig. A grunt. Pathetic. It’s all that he gives you before he sways towards the kitchen. The opening of the fridge is your cue to finally storm into your room and slam the door shut.

Once you’re under no ones watchful eye, you allow a few tears to escape. The softness of your bed warms you as you throw yourself into its embrace. You couldn’t bring yourself to face the mirror near your bed yet, knowing that the mess you were was going to match with what your foster father had said.

Pathetic.

You probably looked so pathetic. Allowing for that group to terrorize you that way. It had to be them, who else would it be? If you would have known that flicking them off would cause them to react that way, you would have pretended you didn’t notice them in the first place. This wasn’t new. You should have known they wouldn’t let you get away without having their fun with you.

You shift onto your back and stare at the ceiling. You felt so exhausted. Your body was aching and a part of you wanted to take a long bath but another part wanted to sleep it all of. The anxiety shifting into a deep shallow of self pity while you mull over what tomorrow would bring. One thing didn’t sit right with you.

What frustrated you the most was—

Why didn’t they show themselves? Why was there no big reveal—No big ‘Ha ! Fuck you freak !’? That’s what they would have relished in the most, making sure you knew the power they held over you. Instead, it was although nothing had happened at all.

As though nothing had been following you at all.

But there was.

That ghostly mask and glistening knife was proof of that.

[jomiddlemarch]

Mary Phinney and Jed Foster, “the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” Jed said and though the remark might be construed as pettish, the utterance of a spoilt child, he’d said it in the tone of a kindly father or wise professor, point out the flaw in her latest proof.

“I know the boys will all miss a stocking, but I mean to make them happy,” Mary replied. Jed reached over and took her left hand in both of his, his thumb grazing the calluses on her palm, the narrow gold band he’d given her when she rejected one studded with diamonds.

“I’m sure you have a plan to make them merry, then, or will you aim for jolly, full of glad tidings?”

“I shall start with carols and I hope I shan’t need to beg you to add your baritone to Henry’s bass and Dr. Hale’s lovely tenor,” she said, warming to the idea and Jed’s answering expression of wry admiration.

[anintroverteddarling]

Have some DBD Ghostface doodles because he's da boi

[hybristophile-bitch]

Aaaaaaahhh finalmente consegui terminar essa imagem 😭😭 linda linda linda amo amo você Danny Johnson amo nosso Ghostface 🤤