#jeffrey hawk x reader

[semiweirdshipper]

Why do I make these memes?

[your-goth-sis]

Hi! May I request Max Thompson Jr., Jeffrey Hawk and Anna with a survivor reader who instinctively apologizes to them when she drops a pallet a tad too hard? She leaves her med-kit behind so that they can patch themselves up or (if they allow her to) she patches them up herself! Thank you and please don't feel pressured to write this if it's not your cup of tea! Have a lovely day 🫶🏻

Aw this is cute!

Max Thompson Jr

How cute? He was surprised and tried telling you that there was no need to apologise and that this is how it worked but to no avail. He got patched up with your help and you continued as normal. To be honest, he found you really cute!

Jeffrey Hawk

Adorable. Absolutely adorable. He just laughs as you put down your medkit. "Oh no need, honey, I'm fine" he'd smirk. "B-But are you sure?" you asked innocently. "Yeah, now let's continue" he said as he broke the pallet. You RAN, got the frick out of there.

Anna

Well that's cute. She'd nod at you and let you patch her up immediately. She'd pretend to be more hurt for extra attention and love from you.

[slashingdisneypasta]

How would your horror/slasher faves take care of you when you're sick? 🥺 (I know you've done a cheering up hcs before but maybe this is a lil different ^^)

Get well soon!! Take care of yourself <333

THIS IS SO SWEET! Thank you! ^^ <3<3<3 I hope you're doing better too with your life stuff or at least you will be very soon ^^

I took this opportunity to be super super self indulgent! XD 😅

Horror Villains x Reader || Headcanons +Imagines at the Bottom

Topic: Taking care of you when you're sick ^^

Includes (For HC's): Jim Bickerman and Otis B. Driftwood. Included (For Imagines): Bo Sinclair, Chucky Lee Ray, Drayton Sawyer, Freddy Krueger and Jeffrey Hawk/The Clown. (They aren't in this order, sorry 😅)

Warnings: Otis fucking Driftwood (Meaning nasty smut hc's and a liiitle dub con)

Jim Bickerman:

If you get really clingy when you're sick like me (Opposite to me when I'm healthy 😅😅) he is absolutely on board with that XD Honestly he loves having you sticking close to him, going to him for warmth, laughing a little too easy at dumb jokes, listening intently to whatever he's saying... he eats it up. You're like an adorable little puppy dog, hangin' onto him. He'll almost be disappointed when you get better and don't act like that anymore 😅😅😅

"... Do you need help gettin' changed? I'm happy to help y'out pumpkin, really! Ul-ulterior motive?? No... "

Usually he's a frozen meal kinda man; he's probably got a freezer just packed full of pizza's and little microwave meals, and the most gourmet thing he 'cooks' regularly is campfire sausages in the backyard- but he knows how to make chicken soup and mash some potato's and that's his first duty when you wake up sick as a dog.

You get to wear one of his flannels when you're sick (:(:(: Its big and thick and probably smells like spilled alcohol.

He's probably gonna get himself sick too because he can not stay away from you. He'll be sat next to you most of the time- watching tv with you and entertaining you, eating soup with you, having tea with you, napping with you- basically, this is not your sickness. This is both of y'alls sickness 😅😅😅

"Here, this'll help. Promise ya."

"... That is a bottle of bourbon."

"Exactly." *Shakes it in your face*

Otis B Driftwood (NSFW mostly)

You think a little bit of snot is gonna deter this freak man??? Uh, no. He's still going to try and fuck you if he can swing it. You look so fucking cute with your sore, sore red nose from wiping so much, the bags under your eyes are sexy as hell to him, and you're moving so damn slowly... you think he isn't gonna take that as an opportunity?

So yeah... he is actually quite into you when you're sick. And he'll probably exhaust you to the point that you'll be sleeping a lot and get through this much faster then usual!

He will kiss you, full on the mouth with a foul amount of tongue (Lets see if we can soothe your throat, baby), so I hope his immune system is good.

He is happy to just warm his cock in you while you sleep, or lay there and babble because you're half really unwell and halfway to an orgasm at the same time. You're just so fucking cute.

He is also happy to eat you out/blow you and overstimulate you for hours. What?? This way he wont get sick himself! Isn't that better, you gross, diseased little slut?

Otis also doesn't shy away from mess (Obviously), so if you have tissues everywhere he's not gonna look at you sideways or anything ^^ Which is such a load off my mind, at least! ^^

He's not gonna make you something good to eat, but he's not a total animal- especially when he gets older. He will make you a cup of tea, and you better like it XD

You need a ride to the bathroom? Otis will haul you on his shoulder the whole way and set you down right on the toilet seat 😅 You need someone to hold you up in the shower? Otis is on it- he needs a shower anyway.

+ Imagines

Another one who does not give a damn how 'gross' you might be when you're sick is Jeffrey/the clown. He'll have you set on his big lap snoozing against his shoulder or sniffling and coughing into tissues while he messes around with different potions in his trailer, just keeping you warm and comfortable there. He says if you can put up with him coughing and hacking all over ya all the time he can damn sure handle you're adorable fucken self whimpering into his shoulder all day.

If you tend to have bad dreams when you're unwell due to your fever like I do: Imagine frowning in your sleep, pressing your lips together in a tight line as the scenes in your head just replay or get worse the harder you try to get rid of them or distract yourself. But there's immediate relief as soon as Freddy enters your dream. Just his presence is comforting to you ^^

Imagine convincing Drayton to come to bed with you instead of back to work. It takes some convincing, but its no secret he likes you more then anyone else in the world- literally- and he gives in after a while. He gets back in, fully clothed, and delicately but purposefully gets in close so you can cuddle up to him, sayin 'just for a couple minutes okay??' very sternly, before he falls asleep to you stroking his surprisingly soft hair.

Imagine sitting on a bench in Bo's shop while he works, slowly just making your way through a roll of toilet paper there because you just couldn't bear to be away from him- even if he was paying little attention to you. Imagine him, though, taking a break eventually and standing between your legs, his hands warm on your thighs, to ask you how yer goin, doll?

Chucky's conscious of your illness and does not want to get it, but he'll sit out on the ground on the other side of your bedroom door and talk to you through it. Ask you if you're alive still, talk about whatever goes through his head just to hear you hum in acknowledgement, play 20 questions while he fiddles with a lighter... that kind of thing. And he'll also cook you some soup later (He's just an asshole- not an incompetent asshole).

[diejager]

Joyce, can we have headcanons regarding that sicko bastard known as Jeffrey Hawk aka The Clown? I ADORED that thing u said about him having a dad bod ❤️❤️

*Hands you an ordinary Ultra Ball as a gift*

Oddballer, you’re asking a lot from me, aren’t ya?? That man is just so big and filthy that I’m sure he smells.

The Clown NSFW Headcanon

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, drinking, blood, gore, amputation, clown stuff, manhandling, gas/hazing??, tell me if I missed any.

Once a young and athletic kid, building his body to fit a certain way to help him ease through all the hard labour he did, now it his under a warm layer of fat, thick and heavy, bulging over his belt and breast round and soft. He might’ve had some difficulty to run, ambling or striding across the fields with a slow and taunting skip to his step, menacing while he hit the cork of his bottles and shook his special concoction. It made him all the more terrifying, slow and comfortable in his walk, strategic and strangely familiar with every type of hunt, ears keenly aware of the screams and pants of survivors, hungry for the dopamine those pained sounds gave him —especially yours. 

His special bird, the first he’d every wanted to keep, locked away from the other killers and survivors alike, chained to his carney’s caravan by the ankle, bloody and filthy just to his liking. It brought back memories, favourable ones, his first successful hunt, catching a little robin in his hand, the soft and pretty red plumage picked and broken, but you weren’t something he wanted broken.

He liked the fire in your eyes, the fearful and spiteful glare you sent him when he cornered you in the chosen realm, snarling at him like a feral creature. While he hated doing unnecessary work, abhorred the thought of you losing the flare in your being, taming such a wild cat was rewarding by itself. If he could tame you enough to be able to hold and touch you without too much fight, but keep your temper, it was a win-win in his mind. There was nothing more he hated than a husk, a shell of a broken man to keep as a pet. 

He took brave and foolish alike, young or old, nothing was off the table for him, all he needed was the true part of them, a finger to remember his exploits and victory, throwing away the part he deemed trash —fake. He could smell it from their bodies and figured that the hands - fingers - were the truth, a part that showed the person’s life, deeming it a satisfactory boon for him conquest, but you, all parts of you sang a different story to good ol’ Jeffrey Hawk. A true treasure to keep intact. 

While he would love to keep you to himself, a little bird that would sing to him every day with snapping teeth and kicking feet, he wasn’t as favoured by her as other killers were, almost forgotten to his dirty little corner of the forest in his bloodied and smelly caravan, fingers littering every flat surface and beer bottles stacked or rolling across the floor. If he had such a favour, he would keep you in a comfortable corner, placed over a sullied mattress with blankets stacked over it, keeping you warm while he dressed you in his shirts, all browned and smelling of metallic blood and his musk. 

It was thick and heady, mixing with a scent of alcohol and iron, age-old sweat and dirt. You’d complained about his stink, gagging and choking on the many times he cornered you, pressing himself against you to feel and smell you under his grasp. Nose buried in your hair and arms pulling you to his front, your back arching by the neck against the solid mass of his stomach, soft and pudgy if it wasn’t for his rough clothes scratching your tender skin.

It brought tears to your eyes. Be it from the stench of him and his intoxicating tonics, or his wandering hands, slipping under your shirt until it rode up, removing a piece of protection from his hungry eyes, he loved watching you cry. Call it a recreational hazard from his job, tears and wails were just a part of his duty under The Entity’s guidance, but he simply adored your pretty tears, pearly things rolling down your cheeks and your cute sobs filling his lecherous ears.

You don’t know how much it affected him, the pout when you bit your lower lip in frustration while you struggled against him, the squirming that riled him when he had you in his arms, and your spitfire-like tongue, hurling every insults under the sun at him. It stirred something deep in his guts, a dark pleasure bubbling from his loins, fattening the growing hardness between his leg. He easily got worked up by you, the solitude of his lifestyle and the starvation for any kind of touch led his to drool and hunger for it. 

Your skin against his, soft and beautiful, bending easily under his kneading hands, his rough and bloodied glove as forced you on his lap, seated still to let him lap and suck at your small fingers. His tongue curling around your index, thick and lithe, and suckled in his warm and wet mouth while his tongue felt around, drool running down your wrist. He lost himself in these moments, aroused out of his mind and huffing hot breath against your disgusted face.

He liked your reaction —he liked any reaction you gifted him. He savoured each and every one, your gleeful ones, your sorrowful ones, your frustrated one, and your painful ones. He drank it all up like the drugs and alcohol he found pleasure in, gorging on you like an addict would. You were his new addiction, his new drug and dependence. And he hungered.

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Characters I will and won't write

Will Write For:

Singularity/HUX-A7-13

Dredge/Druanee

Blight/Talbot Grimes

Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn

Xenomorph/"Big Chap" [NEW!]

Will NOT Write For(these are characters I will never add to my list because I don't favor them/they make me uncomfortable):

Clown/Kenneth Chase/Jeffrey Hawk

Nightmare/Freddy Krueger

Trickster/Ji-Woon Hak

Cenobite/Pinhead

I will also not write Surivors x Reader. Nothing against them, I will even include some in certain fics but they will never be the central character. Sorry! I just like killers more ^^

And just in case some of you are following me for this...I will not be posting anything for Specimen Seven. I can still do something for ALIEN if you guys want, but Specimen Seven is being reserved for something else. So please do not attempt to use him as he is my character. Thank you for understanding.

[trashyslashers]

Hey, can I request killer reader who collects eyes from their victims x the Clown?

Also I hope you have a nice day!

Apologies this took so long, anon - I had to brush up on his lore because it's been awhile.

Hope you enjoy!

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【 Kenneth "Jeffrey Hawk" Chase | The Clown x Killer!Reader who collects the eyes of their victims 】

It's a hobby Jeffrey respects, regardless of what body part it is (though, in his mind, his finger collection will always be superior).

Hell, I can see Jeffrey feeling almost a little bit competitive. Who has the larger collection? The best variety? He isn't typically competitive, but the collecting of body parts was, prior to your arrival, his shtick.

It is, though, what piques his interest in you from the get go. He's good at observing; hell, he usually prefers to stay off to the side and observe as opposed to really doing much interacting, so he'll catch himself on occasion watching you from far off as you look over your collection.

Depending on your relationship (acquaintances? friends? partners?), I could see Jeff on occasion maybe, maybe, going out of his way to grab you a particularly nice looking eye from a Survivor if he's in the right mood and feeling generous. He typically doesn't like doing any more work than necessary, so seriously - it's a very sweet gesture of him. He knows how to be careful; a certain level of care is needed to properly remove a finger without potentially damaging it, and you might be surprised at how gentle and precise he can be.

Probably the only one in the Fog who'll really appreciate your collection, aside from maybe Danny or one or two others. Jeffrey is far from being a very talkative guy, but in a good mood he'll be fine listening to you tell him the story behind each eye or why that one in particular caught your eye.

I can see Jeffrey, well into your relationship (regardless of what type), perhaps even gifting you a surprisingly well cared for box for them. Polished, smooth wood that's pretty to look at in the light of the Killer's campfire, with a soft interior lining. He won't say where he got it from, but he knows that if you're anything like him, you'd prefer a proper way of storing your prizes.

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[fandom-go-round]

Which killer from dbd would have way to fun chasing they favourite survivor and have fun with them.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Torture, Implied Non Con, 

Trapper doesn’t like to chase as much as he likes to drive survivors where he wants them. Nothing is more fun for him than chasing someone into a trap, their scream covering up his own satisfied chuckle. He likes it even more when it’s you because your screams always sound the best. Evan loves to trap you and then sling you over his shoulder, not heading towards a hook. Maybe, if you’re good this time and suck him off, he’ll take the trap off your leg first.

Clown loves to see survivors scatter, gas curling into the lungs of unsuspecting prey. He likes you the most, watching as your hands glide between the pistons of a generator. The moment you start to cough he gets hard, trying to grab you as quickly as possible. He doesn’t know if he wants you to choke on his cock or have you jerk him off but he’ll figure it out once he catches you.

Ghostface loves the stalking the most. To watch people without them knowing is his biggest joy and he does everything he can to get away with it. He would have been devastated if he didn’t have his camera but things are a lot more interesting this way. He has an entire collection dedicated to you; everything from normal things to you hanging from hooks. The next time you’re hanging from a hook he might take his time with you; nothing looks better than you stretched out around him.

Michael prefers to watch before the chase, categorizing every move and slight of hand. He wants to predict his prey’s movements before they happen and he can only do that by watching. He never gets tired of you; your movements fascinate him and he has a hard time predicting what you’re going to do. His favorite thing to do is yank you through windows, pushing you against the wall to have his way from you.

[slashthedice]

Would you mind posting some headcanons for The Clown? NSFW if you would, probably some S/M just based off his character.

I told y’all I would supply more clown content eventually.

Kenneth definitely has some voyeuristic tendencies. He likes to watch you masturbate when you think no one is around. He wants to see the way your body reacts to your touch, and the look on your face when you cum.

He watches porn frequently from his little collection of VHS tapes. He likes to envision himself doing all those wonderfully awful things to you. He likes the thought of how you’d look all tied up with the rope chafing your soft skin. The thought of your flesh bulging form between the ropes and knots leaves his mouth watering.

He has a special blend of chemicals reserved just for his alone time with you. He loves when you’re high and giggling, completely out of it. He doesn’t mind if you’re out of it, in fact he prefers it. You’re much more compliant and he can try any and all of the things he has planned for you.

[miss-mori]

Can I get uhhhhhhhh, hcs for Bubba, Kenneth n Brahms with a clingy and handsy S/O. They love having their hands all over their boys as much as possible, ESPECIALLY with the plush middles. Even going as far as sneaking grabs and embraces at the most inopportune times. (ie murder)

You absolutely can!! I hope you enjoy

Bubba

Bubba absolutely adores that you love clinging and hugging on him as much as he does you.

As far as Bubba is concerned, any time is cuddle time!

Unless he’s working!! He’s so worried that you might get hurt!! He loves your hugs and cuddles but your safety comes first!!! Not only are his tools dangerous but he can’t predict what the meat will do! cuddles come later.

If he has to deny physical affection from you he’ll always come to find you as soon as he’s finished with work. He feels so bad telling you no so he’ll try to give you extra love now!

Bubba loves when you give a little extra attention to his tummy it makes him feel more confident about it!!

Kenneth

I’d say he’s the only one who leans more towards “tolerating” the clinginess. He still loves it, he’s just a busy man. Places to go, people to kill, fingers to collect.

He might let you convince him into a cuddle while he’s working if his victim is sufficiently bound, gagged, and drugged.

However, he prefers saving your loving embrace for a reward after he’s successfully finished his work.

Kenneth is definitely more receptive and even reciprocates when he hasn’t chosen a victim, but once he has his eyes set on someone he’s all business.

Brahms

Brahms wants you all to himself, he’s very opposed to other people in his home with you both, so you have all of his attention.

This is possibly the neediest boy on earth, he will gladly embrace almost any type of affection you want to give him.

Just like with Bubba, any time is cuddle time. The difference is Brahms has no obligations other than receiving attention from you.

Bedtime cuddles are a must!!

There are very rarely times when Brahms doesn’t want you to touch him, but if he decides he’s too preoccupied with something to divide his attention he will absolutely sass you and be a brat about it.

He doesn’t mind extra tummy attention, just absolutely no tickles!! He will pout for what seems like forever if you tickle him. He’s very particular.

[semiweirdshipper]

A meme to explain how all of my slasher stories/drabbles go.

[your-goth-sis]

May I please request Jeffrey, Kazan and Max with a reader who is very affectionate yet shy/easily flustered? Thank you!

These killers are in need of actual affection and love. Thanks for the request! Sorry if they're occ I'm writing while sleep deprived.

Jeffrey Hawk

Blud is lowkey confused

He's in desperate need of love and affection, especially from you

Please give it to him?

If he hugs you back, and you get flustered / shy, he may get a little irritated

Why are you so shy? It's just him

Kazan Yamaoka

Bro's like so melty

He'd melt at your affection and shyness, his bloodlust settling once he feels your arms around him

He thinks you getting flustered is the cutest thing???? Like real

Max Thompson Jr

Blud will break down and cry once he receives your affection

You're just the purest and most precious thing in his life atp

The light in his life tbh

Your shyness is a cute bonus

[slashingdisneypasta]

!!!!!! JEFFREY!!

I love the bit in Divergent so much when Four's in the sim and he's got the gun to Tris's head and she's just muttering to him (Or herself maybe) its okay... its okay, I love you... its okay... Its just so good. It was like (to me at least. I dunno whether it was obvious to everyone and I'm just an idiot, or whether I was supposed to take something completely different away from it) she was comforting him. Not herself. Like, you can kill me. I know its not your fault. I love you still. And then add a complicated relationship between, say, a victim and a Slasher into it?? Ahhhhh!- So yeah, that's where this one came from and why I love it so much ^^

MultiVillains x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: They're under the control of something, or someone, else and directed to try and kill you- until you break them free from the hold.

Includes: The Clown / Jeffrey Hawk / Kenneth Chase, The Huntress / Anna, Freddy Krueger, Laughing Jack, Offenderman, Peter Hale, Peter Hayes, and Scott (Total Drama).

Warnings: Mind control, non con drugging (Jeffrey), violence, angst. And, then, fluff! ^^

The Clown / Jeffrey Hawk / Kenneth Chase:

Controlled by- The Entity.

The moment you hit Cronus Penn Asylum and you saw the look in Jeffry's eyes, you know something terrible has happened. Something is missing in them. All of the... Jeffrey, really. There's no amusement nor dreadful glee, there, at seeing you. Something you've become accustomed to, and actually made you feel... comfortable- weird as that sounds.

But right now you do not feel comfortable. Especially as he starts descending upon you.

Nervous, you take a few tiny, cautious steps back as he moves towards you. You raise an eyebrow. "Jeffrey... ? Are you okay?... "

He doesn't say a word, but you watch his hand disappear into his coat pocket, and take out a bottle.

You start to walk faster, backwards. "Jeffrey what's that? Jeffrey, why wont talk?" He still doesn't answer and just keeps coming closer. Your hearts starting to beat unnaturally fast in your chest, and you're legitimately scared; Face pale and your legs demanding you to run. Far and fast, until you cant see him anymore. "Jeff!"

And then he rears his arm back, ready to throw it at the ground near your feet, and you turn around and make your run for it; Sprinting across the ground to escape the fumes that crash and fill the air behind you- taking the air that you breath.

You fail; And the drug is fast acting, stealing your energy and making it hard to breath- soon you're on the ground, struggling to breath in proper lungful's of air, on your hands and knees, just trying to stay moving. Even if its just an inch at a time. But you can feel him on your heels, eyes licking up the back of your legs and your back, before he drops to his knees - not groaning in pain or coughing at all, - , and uses a big meaty hand to drag you over onto your backside.

You're now laying on the ground, just trying to concentrate on taking long, slow breaths and not the butterfly knife nearing your chest. "Jeff... " You whine, squeezing your eyes closed. Its hard to speak, as its hard to breath, but there's nothing else you can try; So you force the sounds out. "Why... are you... doing... this... ah... "

"Kenneth is not here." Finally, your clown responds. But this not his voice. This is unfamiliar- yet when you crack an eye open, eyebrows furrowed in pain and confusion, its still Jeffrey's face looking blankly back at you. Gone is the drunken slur that's become tantamount to Jeffrey's identity, along with the wheeze that comes with his breezing and the pleased lilt to his tones. This is emotionless and informational. "This is the Entity. And I've been made exceedingly displeased by your dalliances with each other... " Your eyelids squeeze shut again, forehead wrinkling severely and lips parted as to take in as much oxygen as possible, as you struggle against the drugs Jeffrey is so good, at stirring. And you fight to fully understand the words coming out of Jeffrey's mouth, but that are certainly not his. "Killers are not supposed to bring joy... even degenerate, perverted joy as you are taking from him, Y/N... Let this be a lesson to you both."

The knife comes down towards your chest then, but you manage to block it from breaking your skin with a weak hand- the drug evidently weakening your muscles, too, -. "No... Jeffrey... please." You didn't even realise you were weeping, until salty, dirty tears slip down to your lips and you taste the flavour of you horror. A sob tears through you. "Please, don't do... do this... "

You cant even struggle against him, fight for your dignity. No, you can only lay there and sob ugly tears like a child, moaning his name like its yours. Like he belongs to you and you just want your thing, back. You want desperately for the Entity to let him go. Jeffrey's not much, but you would really like for him to come back to you- and to give you the cure to this awful drug.

Hands weakly find the lapels of his jacket, as you slowly writhe on the ground. The Entity - or Jeffrey? - watches you suffer, eyes half lidded. "There's no point to begging. His consciousness can do nothing, right now."

"Let him... let him go... " You don't know wen your pleas started to become for him, rather then for you, but suddenly that's all you want.

"You should worry about yourself." The Entity responds, a bored tone to his voice.

"I... " Another sob wracks your body, before you gasp for air because that cry took all of it out of you, and panic for a second because you cannot breath- "I cant!... "

"You should worry about yourself!" You Entity snaps again, and you cant see him for your eyes being closed but through your pain and your struggling, a tangible haze surrounding and coating everything inside you like tar, you detect a lining of anger now.

But how could you possibly make this worse by defying him?

"Just let him... " Breathing in deeply, even as your airways feel half closed, you feel your gums ache. "go, let him... get out... " Get out of him. Leave him alone. Let him be. Put him back-

Suddenly, you feel familiar weight, that you hadn't quite realised was far less then it should be as the Entity in Jeffrey's body held you down, rest against you. Fingers brush some of your hair back, soothingly, and slimy grease-paint covered lips press a comfortingly gentle kiss to your cheek. You know he left a mark of grease paint behind, too. "You should worry about yourself... Y/N... "

You know you would gasp if you were in any state to do so, and your eyes flutter slightly open- only a crack, only a bit, to see Jeffrey.

Really, Jeffrey this time. His eyebrows are furrowed in a half-concerned expression as fat fingers run through your hair, tracing your skin. "Jeff... Jeffrey?"

"Don't talk. Sorry love, but this particular drug'll only wear off on its own. Nasty, huh? Just breath, okay? Wouldn't wantcha passin' out, not after all those lovely things you said for me, at least." The last bit is slightly teasing, but there is still a definite umbrella of soft, gentle concern as he talks quiet, and slow- forcing himself to swallow back his coughs as to not do it near your face. He's also holding himself off your chest, to make it easier for you. "Just keep on breathin', nugget... Keep doin' that for me, okay? That's all I need. You're off the hook for Christmas presents forever if you do this for me, okay? Okay... "

The sound of his voice, as horrible and scratchy as it is, lulls you into a state of calm. Breathing becomes slightly easier, now that you aren't fighting with the very little strength you have in the moment , and your muscles relax.

The Huntress / Anna:

Controlled by- The Entity.

The broad axe that very fucking nearly hit its target - being your head, - a moment ago is what had you realising that maybe Anna is just not feeling herself today, and causes you decision to hide.

As you strategically cower in a brush and peel your ears for any sounds of Anna - which is hard, seeing as she's a hunter, - , your mind races with possibilities of why she's acting this way. She hasn't tried to lodge an axe into your skull for what you think has possibly been years. She likes you. She pets your head and strokes your hair and brings you dead birds as presents.

And you've liked her liking you- and not only because you experience situations like this one, far less frequently.

"Oh Y/N... You cannot escape me. I will find you. You've endangered the integrity of my games... and you must be punished."

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, hearing those words. Fingers dig into the dirt on either side of your for purchase as you fight not shiver, because those words were so fricken freaky, and give away your position. Surely, that is not Anna!

Suddenly the familiar axe flies into the air, and sticks swiftly into the bark of a tree behind you- just above your head, and your seize up, freezing. You figure, she found you.

As your turning tail and attempting to make a quick escape, crawling out from under the bushes, a hand latches onto your heels and drags you across the ground back wards. You shriek, rolling over and trying frantically to kick her off, scraping your other foot against her hand to get it off but its no use and she has you underneath her soon enough. Still, your heart's hammering in your chest and and you fight to push her off you with your knee but she easily wrangles you down and sits herself on your thighs- the axe now slamming deep into the dirt by your head; The threat effectively stopping your movements.

Breathing hard, but slowly, you carefully turn your head from the weapon and up to Anna's face- and see her smirking.

... for as long as you've known her, Anna has never smirked. It shocks you dumb for a moment. "... Anna-"

"The Huntress is occupied." These words send a chill down your spine, just like before, and you fight not to shake under the dark gaze that seems to prickle and penetrate. Whoever's speaking through Anna tilts her head down at you. "Anna... as you feel so comfortable calling her... is dealing with her own penalty right now. This is the Entity. And your relationship with each other has arisen an issue, for me... Its just not entertaining anymore."

The Entity.

The Entity.

The Entity.

The words keep repeating in your head, and you honestly have to fight not disbelieve, these words. The idea is crazy. The Entity, is mad? The Entity kidnapped you all - killers and survivors alike, - to have you all try to kill eachother like a psychopathic 12 year old Hunger Games fangirl and its mad!?

You give a good fight, kicking your legs suddenly and trying with all your might to shove Anna's body the fuck off you- but she seems to be stronger, now, and she pushes your wrists down by your head the she's now the damn terminator. You yelp in surprise, and drop your head back into the dirt, conceding defeat. Gaze flickering from the forest around you, to Anna's face, you raise your brows. "What did you mean by Anna's dealing with her own penalty right now?" Heat builds up in your chest and your stomach twists. "What are you doing to her?"

"Nothing... I figure if you two are going to play by different rules, then I'll follow your lead. She'll but watch from inside her own body, as I use it to hurt you. That'll be painful enough for her... don't you think?"

Oh no... You think, eyebrows furrowing. No... Anna's in there? You glance at into those eyes again, searching for any signs of her. You find none, but know she's in there... so you fight not to glare back into them, despite the pressure building in you to look back at them the same way its daring to look at you. "... Anna?"

The Entity says nothing back, just blinks as it watches you look absolutely helpless on the ground, hair in the dirt.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes for a moment, you gather your courage, letting the breath out through your nose... You need to comfort her, you realise. Killer's aren't used to being the ones hurt. You just want her to be okay; Cuz you know you damn sure will be. Nothing the entity can do to you anymore can really get you down, for long. You refuse to let it.

"Anna... " Your eyes open again. "If- if you're really in there... I want you to know its okay. I'll be fine. That fucking Doctor does worse to me then this bastard can do with just a little axe, on a regular basis... And those fuckers Macmillan and the Pig aren't a lot better. So I know I'll be fine." Pleading with your eyes, you beg her to understand. "Please don't get too upset, Annie. I know its not you."

As the Entity lets go of one of your wrists and yanks the axe up out of the ground again, and its gaze washes over you... looking for where to start, probably... you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips firmly together in a straight line. Sure, you'll take your 'punishment', but you wont stare into Anna's eyes while it happens.

Quietly, and before you even realise you wanted to do it... you start humming. Gently, and very almost inaudibly- but the Entity seems to hear it, if the sudden, violent jolt that Anna's body gives is any indication. Its an old lullaby that you know Anna loves. She sings it to you sometimes after a particularly bad trial, when you've come up against the Clown, or Krueger. She'll drag your body up against hers, sitting your back against her chest and hug you, pressing her cheek against the top of your head as the words slip out and your close your eyes; Letting her. You've come to crave those moments with her hugging you like you're special, and important.

The humming was only meant to comfort her, this time... but when her body climbs back off of you and she effortlessly picks you up, setting you in her lap and curling around you, burying her face into your neck.

When you immediately realise that is Anna again, rather then Entity, you quickly relax against her and wrap your arms around her neck and hugging her tight. "Кролик... I am sorry... I did not-... It-... was not me... "

"I know Anna... "

"Forgive me. I do not want you to fear."

"There's nothing to forgive."

Freddy Krueger:

Controlled by- Older, more powerful dream demons. (Uhhhhh *cough* Bill Cipher if you want *Cough cough*)

"Freddy... " You hold out your hands, a cautious gesture as he approaches- blades extended and ready to strike. And he's ascending faster then he usually would, more determined. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you look around, panicking; All you see is four walls, one that you're digging your shoulder blades into in a nearly subconscious attempt to keep yourself as far as you can from your attacker, who isn't acting like himself, and the claw-like blades on his fingers.

Your heart's hammering against your chest, because you know for certain- if he gets to you this time you aren't getting out. No lengthy one-liner is going to allow you to too luckily wake up just in the nick of time, no stupid loophole will stop him short, no silly human distraction will divert his short attention span. Your mind races with different ways you've escaped before, but none of it applies to a situation like this. Freddy's not himself- and weirdly enough you find yourself really fucking missing him. At least you wouldn't be in this situation! Looking around senselessly, you panic. "Shoot, shoot, shoot- "

He'd usually like to drag things out, eat up every delicious reaction you make, and by some miracle you would manage to escape.

But there's no foreseeable getaway out of this one.

Suddenly the wall behind you disappears, leaving a fucking cliff leading to a whole lot of deep, black, nothingness an inch from your heels and you violently flinch away from it, narrowly escaping a terrible fall, eyes wide at the new threat. A whimper comes out of you, staring back over your shoulder at it; You were always uncomfortable with heights.

While you're distracted is when 'Freddy', lunges- but you catch it from the corner of your eye and manage to whip back around in time to catch his wrist, holding the blades away from your body- a pathetic yelp flying out of you at the attack. "No!" Your eyes snap shut and stay squeezed tightly closed for a moment, before you crack them back open to see a furious scowl carved into his usually amused face. Damn it...

There's nothing left to do but beg.

"If you kill me now, all the fun will be over, Freddy." You remind, eyes wide as you try to get that through to him. Try to make him remember. His eyes just narrow at you and his other arm comes out of nowhere flying towards your throat but you catch that wrist too, and although your arm shakes against the struggle to release himself, you manage to not let go. Because if you do and those blades manage to slice through you then you are a goner. "Come on man fight this." Searching his eyes, you try to find even one lick of Freddy left but just despair and panic more when you just find terrible emptiness- its worse then any mirth or roué that's annoyed you before. "You're lots of things but you aren't a tool- please?"

Please, please.

"Oh but he is my tool! Aren't you seeing this??" For the first time, the bastard that's trying to kill you speaks; And your eyes immediately darken, louring at the face. He gives a great yank, trying to pull himself away from you but your fingers only clench down.

"What are you even doing with him?? Isn't he bringing in enough souls for you?? The bastard sure acts ruthless enough."

"Au contraire, Y/N. In fact 'the bastard' hasn't brought in any fresh ones for weeks. Been too busy with you, I'd wager. Which is why I've come to help out." Green eyes wonder across your determined, stony face, before an irritating smirk crosses his. "In fact, while I do admit that you're tough, beautiful- you aren't so tough that I believe you'd be able to ward off his attacks for this long... if he were being serious about it."

Face scrunching up in confusion and disinclined to really try and understand. "Well I guess you're not a great judge of strength because open your eyes and guess what? I'm still right here."

The smirk of Freddy's face turns very cruel. "I don't have any use for a wayward demon with human emotions."

Before you have a real chance to wonder what the hell that remark meant, you take a knee hard to the belly, causing all the the air in your throat to be knocked out, and your grip to loosen as a result- more then enough for the demon to take control of the situation; Shoving you harshly down to the ground and your knees when you double over and hold your stomach and just try to suck in breath again.

As air starts to fill your lungs again sharp, stinging claws scrape up your throat and dig into the skin below your chin. You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking you're really going to die this time.

The knives prod so hard into the soft skin there you think blood's going to spill any time as you jaw tightens and your heart beats as fast as a steam train rolling and your fists clench at your sides- when-

The pain disappears. The whole sensation of being touched by anything but the hard ground the clothes on your back goes away, in fact, and your crack your eyes slowly open, and look up.

Immediate, and odd considering the facts, relief washes over your body because you can tell just looking at him - despite the lack of change in expression, his face still stuck in a grim expression and you don't really blame him after the bullshit that just happened,- that the person standing in front of you now is once again the asshole who's been trying to kill you the past couple weeks. This is one of those moments you know that no one else will understand but you, but the relief in your voice when you say his name now is palpable. "Freddy." The ground behind you starts to grow outwards into the empty space of the chasm, creating a more stable surface for you.

Slowly he tilts his head to the side, regaining a dot of his usual humour. "I suggest you get up sweetheart or I might get some ideas."

Fuck even something stupid and perverted and ill-timed like that causes a wash of relief to roll over you as you get up, brushing off your knees and feeling under you chin for lacerations-

Before a finger-knife once again touches to the soft skin underneath your chin and - gently this time, - guides your head up, and Freddy's eyes flicker half-concerned and mostly unamused over the area. And maybe its wishful thinking, or the way you're still sensitive from fear from just almost getting killed, or what, but you detect a relieved tone in his voice, too. "You're fine."

Laughing Jack:

Controlled by- His own madness.

A lollipop stick - one of those BIG ones, that you see Bugs Bunny hit people like Yosimite Sam in the head with when he's pretending to be a baby,- gets thrown at you and you just manage to duck down before it nails you in the head- when you straighten back up, wide eyed, you see the thing wedged into the wall where your head was... sizzling.

Heart hammering like a crazed Bob The Builder in your chest, you look back at L.J, who's madness is quite literally swirling around visibly in his eyes right now and who's teeth look sharper then before somehow, and feel your heart sink into your feet. Raising your hands in the universal sign of surrender, you take a step back. "L.J... come on... "

"Pop... hehe... Pop! Pop- that's how the weasel goes? Right??" His voice is so sweet and British, but the growl that tears out of his very soul and turns yours to absolute ice as he hurls another poisonous not-so-fun-sized lollipop at you- the stick cramming into the plaster by your arm. Way too close for comfort. You can feel heat coming off of it and burning your skin like radiation. Goddamn, what did he dip this in? Unfathomably shiver inducing giggles bubble up out of L.J's chest, and you snap back to attention. "Pop... hehe... Like you!- If you eat that lolly."

Side stepping the lollipops, you put the kitchen table between you and your boyfriend. "Yeah... yeah, hilarious."

His eyes snap click to yours, cool and grey and killer focused. "Sarcasm?"

Oh hell- "No!" Desperately, you cry, surprised at what he's jumped to and terrified of that look in his beautiful, scary eyes. "No, its funny! Really!"

Oh my god, really! Truly!

Oh god you want to cry, not laugh! But you force a smile onto your face anyway, fingers gripping the dining chair in front of you so tight your knuckles turn white.

Slowly, a dangerous grin spreads across L.J's sharp, off-white angelic features. In a sing-song voice, as he follows a slow, deliberate, predatory course around the table to you as your eyes widen the closer he gets. "I~ Don't~ Believe~ You!~ "

Claws scrape against each other at one of his sides, and on the other his talon-like fingers itch around a pocket full of lethal treats- still deciding, you're sure, which devastating delectable to shove down your throat.

"L.J... please... " You stay cautiously, try to take a step back again and escape, but he grabs grabs you this time. holding you down in your spot by a shoulder, like a child getting a shot. "Ah!"

"Now stay still!~ Love you're just as sweet as a gum drop!" A short flicker of fondness whispers beyond his eyes, before his grip clenches down more painfully on your shoulder and it disappears again. All you can do is roll your shoulder, trying in vein to wiggle out of his grip and lessen the pain. "But to be quite honest with you I'm thinking you deserve something a little less ordinary don't you? Maybe, a... warhead, instead ey!?- Huh?"

You can hear his heartbeat slow down, as you press the side of your face against his chest, as you had lurched forward and arms wrapped around his waist as you hugged him warmly. "Please just come back L.J. I know you're having a moment but I need you to come back. I need you."

"This is!- This is really not- Very- Look I'm British, and this is not super dignified- " His voice is still high and mad, but you cant very well let him go now. This is your only remaining idea to bring him back.

Affection is hard for L.J on a good day, much less a hard one like this, but its the only human reaction you know for sure you can get out of him- and you're desperate.

"L.J... " Your voice is small, as you gaze sadly at the floor. "Please, come back to me... " An uncomfortable, strangled groan comes out oh him- but he does not rip you off of him.

In fact, the next thing you feel is the gentle tap of something familiarly cone-like on the top of your head as he casually touches his nose to your scalp.

"... I've come back, sweets...

Now please, please let me go- "

Offenderman:

Controlled by- Unknown, powerful force. (Possibly Zalgo?)

"Forever in love with the human Offender design that has him with long grey/silver hair.

"Uh... Offender?" Something about this man right now is... disconcerting best, you think as you set down the groceries on the hall table, kicking the front door closed and shedding your jacket from around your waist. He's standing silently, leaning against a wall instead of on the couch with the TV remote like he usually would be.

Now, his head turns slowly from the blank screened TV, to you- and you definitely feel a sense of dread settle in your bones.

No smirk, no flirty comment. He just stares; His lips resting in a thin, unchanging line like a robot.

"Offender? You... " Tilting your head to the side, you get a little bit concerned. "Okay?"

There's no response. Your eyebrows furrow.

"You wanna know my total at the register just now? 69 dollars. Ain't that funny?"

Now, usually that would make the over-powered moron laugh like an idiot, stamping his foot down onto the floor and all, but now a tentacle shoots out from his back and squeezes around your neck.

A gasp tears from your throat as he drags you up off of the floor, the tips of your feet barely scraping the carpet anymore. Tears cluster in your eyes from the suddenness of it all as you try and suck in air, but he's really getting to it. No holds bared. His grip is like steel, locking up your airway entirely, immediately.

You cant speak but you mouth his name, scraping your nails into the appendage as your legs writhe up to your stomach in the air, struggling to breath in air that he wont let you.

What... the... hell.

"I have a mission- stop. Must destroy weakness- stop. The Sexual Offenderman first- stop. No one will notice he's changed- stop." He talks like he's reading out a telegram, and its his voice but at the same time its not. There's absolutely no tone in it that would in anyway scream Offender, to you, but that generously chocolaty, gravelly voice belongs to no other body but his. So you know that its him. But what's wrong with him?

Who... are... you? You can barely think through your struggle to breath and the blind panic about death clearly nearing as black spots enter your vision, but you manage to think out that before your head goes foggy.

"Head of the mission anonymous- stOop."

Is it just the delirium stewing around in your brain or did his voice crack on that last syllable?

The tentacle suddenly snatches back from your neck, so fast it leaves a burn behind in its wake but you're more preoccupied landing on weak, bucking legs and taking in great big lung full's of air- before just as suddenly as you had been allowed reprieve, its stolen away from you again. This time his fist has taken its place, pinning your neck to the wall behind you- and your head spins, from the back of your head knocking harshly against the wall.

If your vision wasn't blurry before, it sure is now.

Offender's fingers flex around your throat, gripping it desperately- and you notice a deep frown on his mouth just before your eyes slip closed, a strangled cry escaping you.

Slowly... everything... every sense and every hurt... disappears, as you lose consciousness.

~

You don't know how much later it is when your eyes flutter open again, but miraculously they do and when you see Offender leaning against the wall this time, you scramble back backwards- to the headboard of your your bed.

Confused, you look around. You're in your bedroom, now. In bed. Your neck throbs still and to breath is to inflict pain upon yourself. Gaze flickers cautiously back to Offender, although you aren't so worried. If he was still under... whoever, or whatever... that was's, control, then he never would've stopped or let you go. Or set you down in your bed.

On inspection, all his tentacles are hidden away wherever they come from in his back again, and his arms are held carefully behind his back. When he notices that you're calm, heartbeat slowing down to a steady beat once again, you watch him as he lets out a relieved breath.

Still, his voice is cool and relaxed- if a little enthusiastic. Its Offender, and you feel a washed in relief that he's back.

"Fuck, baby. I dunno whatever the hell that was but I promise you its gonna get one hell of a wake up call when I find it." His sharp teeth shine in the sunlight filtering in through the window, as he scowls. Then he takes a deep breath, composing himself, as he comes forward and sits down on the edge of your bed. "Now c'mere, I gotta play doctor now."

Peter Hale:

Controlled by- A vampire (Possibly Damon Salvetore... for fun... ).

"Yep- Scott- Yeah, I got it. I've seen Twilight, okay?" You tease, snorting when theirs a scuffle on the other end of the phone and making out Styles voice snapping at Scott to hand him the diddly- damn- phone. Fishing through your bag, you get out of the key to Peters apartment and the vervain shot he needs to take. "Okay. I gotta go, I'm here. Tell Styles to calm down; I was kidding." You giggle, slipping the key into the lock. "Well- not about seeing Twilight. I actually enjoy it- bye!"

And quickly, you hang up the phone before either of the two boys can say anything else, slip your phone into your back pocket and open the door.

As you kick the door gently closed behind you, you look around got the particular sourwolf you're in search of. "Hey Peter? You home??"

In true Beacon Hills style- another enemy has reared its ugly head. And its not Peter this time, thank god. No, this time... it just had to be vampires.

Rolling your eyes, you venture deeper into the stylish downtown apartment. It was going to happen eventually, you suppose. Werewolves and Vampires kind of go hand in hand, if you are to take any of the supernatural teen romance pop culture seriously at all. Which at this point in life- you kind of do. How could you not, living here??

So here you are, baring gifts for your partner; A wealth of knowledge from Scott and Styles and a syringe full of vervain. And maybe a kiss or two, depending on whether he's nice.

A few moments pass as you go into the kitchen and turn on the fancy coffee maker Peter paid way too much for and get out two mugs- setting your bag down on a chair by the counter; Basically, making yourself at home. You practically live here at this point, so you always do this. Its nothing out of the ordinary.

But do you know what is, out of the ordinary??

The vampire.

As soon as that foul, sickly sweet, distinctly fake smell that your supposed enemy species is drenched with fills your nostrils suddenly, the hair all over your body stands on end. Goosebumps form all up and down your arms. Your head snaps up, and you look cautiously around.

Where... is... Peter. Where is your goddamn mate?

And where's the vampire?

Eyes flickering all around the room, you see immediately when the most bad boy vampire type guy ever walks into the room, on the other side of the dinner table and the counter to you, coming from the bedroom+bathroom area. You manage to stay composed, just opening your mouth to say hello, with a given amount of venom and suspicion bleeding through your tone- when an honest-to-goodness yelp is torn out of you, as hands come from behind and wrestle you against the side counter and the cabinets there, and your eyes snap up to see that its Peter.

Your shoulders drop, and you don't fight him. Heart thumping in your chest, at how wrong everything here is and how confused you are, and now Peter- you look up at him wide eyed confusion and concern. "Peter?"

He doesn't even look at you... just turns his head towards the vampire.

Your stomach immediately takes an awful plummet... down to your feet. You're too late. He's been compelled.

Feeling sick and uncomfortable, you follow his gaze to the vampire version of your mate. Because... yep. Stylish outfit, devil-may-care vibes, air of boredom? That's definitely a look that you're familiar with. Still, you cant help but feel very badly towards this, particular, fang-ier design.

"What the hell is going on?" You try to sound confident, and courageous- but mostly you're just worries. What's the play, here? You don't even know why the vampire's are here, in Beacon Hills. you have no idea what you're up against... and you hate it.

But mostly you hate how Peter, your mate, your boyfriend, your stupid formerly psychotic lover is caught up in it. Him being stuck here with you is one thing- but him not being him?? Oh... no. No, you hate this. With every fibre of your being.

And he smells like the demon, too. Disgusting.

"Oh- glad you asked." The man's voice hurts your superior, wolf-y ears, even as you aren't truly listening to him. Something about a werewolf biting his brother? Doesn't matter, anyway. Your gaze, turned concerned, slipped right back to Peter as soon as the bastard got caught up in his villainous spiel.

You manage to twist your wrists and yank them from Peter's grip, as he's just focused mainly on keeping you where you are rather then attacking the vampire probably, and reach up to gently cup his face- guiding him to look at you so you can worriedly assess him.

There's no Peter behind those eyes, you realise as you worry your bottom lip. Those eyes are hard, and dull, and thoughtless. Peter's pretty bored a lot of the time but there's never any doubt that theirs something - maybe something judgemental, and sometimes even nefarious, - going on in his head. But now?... nothing. And it breaks your heart a little, to see. "Peter... " You say again, just under your breath. Mostly just mouthing the word. Come back. Come back here, please?

"- are you even listening to me?... Ugh! And that was a really freaken good speech, too. Do your kind not appreciate the monologue? Come, on. Its traditional! You know? I tell you why I'm here, why I've gonna rip your head off, and you sit there all... you know, defiant! But scared, too, yeah. Its a good thing! Its one of the things I missed most about being the bad guy!" The guy, the vampire, grabs your attention again- appearing just on the other side of the counter; Which he leans on. You turn your face, anger burning in your face, to him just to scowl. Does he think this is funny?

Deeply rolling some seriously crystal-like blue eyes, the raven haired male drops his cheek into his hand- elbow resting on the bench. "Ughhh. So boring. Okay, fine. Seeing as its clear, that you two don't know anything useful.. I guess I'll just get rid of you both." He heaves a great sigh, then waives like 'get on with it' as he starts assessing some canvas prints on the wall. "Go on, wolf-man. Kill her. Then kill yourself."

Fury, sparked by fear, explodes in you and you suddenly try to lunge out of Peter's grip at the vampire, reaching out for his throat. "Why don't you do it yourself!?- " Peter yanks you back, though, before the vamp gets the good sense to move even an inch. "Ah!"

"Ahhh, there we go. Some quality defiance! That's what I like to see- too bad its too little too late... yea... sorry! I got crap to do today, so... uh... yeah, see ya! You know, or not."

Gritting your teeth, as Peter shows his claws... ready to slash your throat. "I hope your brother dies." Are your parting words for the bloodsucker.

"There's a club for that you can join! Too bad you'll be too dead to join, mm... Oh well! Bye!"

The bastard leaves the apartment before you can say anything else.

You're left just with Peter, who is literally about to kill you. But, still, you aren't able to back down, or shrink down, in front of him. Because its Peter, and no matter the fact that he is compelled, it still feels like him. And you don't have it in you to be scared of him.

Feeling determined suddenly, you slap your hands around his face again, and make him focus on you. "Peter." You say, sternly. More desperate and more powerful then before. You would think you stole the soul of Dame Maggie Smith. "Listen to me now." Looking deeply into those familiar eyes you love, you think only for the man you want back rather then your imminent death. "You said you cared about me. That you loved me. I need you to think about that, now. Right now. Because if you don't, you're going to go and do some things, you wont even be able to regret."

His hand stops.

Seeing that as a chance that he's hearing you, you step forward a smidgeon to be closer to him, and get gentler in your approach. As a werewolf, your connection to your mate isn't as huge and earth shattering as Wattpad fanfiction makes it out but it is something, at least, and you're hoping it helps here. Please. "I really need you right now. Please, Peter. I love you."

Then you bow your head, just laying your forehead under his chin and praying he comes back- but also taking a deep breath. Like its your last. Like you're getting ready... to die.

But too many more moments pass by without anything happening, and you want to lean back and see what's happening, if he's okay, but you're also afraid that if you do move it'll spook him. You're just holding onto him, your eyes squeezed shut, more conscious of his crazy familiar cologne that you're breathing in, then ever.

Then suddenly his body relaxes, and a hand comes down on the back of your hair. You suck in a deep breath and grip him tighter. Thank god. "... Its okay. I'm back, sweetheart... and we have a vamp to kill."

Peter Hayes:

Controlled by- Jeanine, via sim.

Suddenly you feel the familiar sense of gun pressed to the back of your head, and your heart goes cold. Because there is only one person you haven't accounted for- and you cant fight him.

Strong and quick at the same time, making him second in your class (Above you, for sure)... and also, the boy that gave you the purple and yellow marks on your throat.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to calm your racing heart. How stupid were you to finally trust him- he's a fucking snake and he's never going to be any different. No matter how much, consciously, you hope he will be. Or how much, subconsciously, you tell yourself its not going to happen. Taking in a shaking breath, you start to talk. "P-Peter- "

But you're cut off. "Oh, he cant hear you." Your eyes suddenly snap open again to find Jeanine not far away, strolling into the room. Immediately your eyes go cold, too, glaring at her. What? "He's in a sim. If he can hear you- he cant do anything about it. He's under my control." She shrugs, daintily. "Sorry."

Suddenly theirs no calming your heart as you freeze up. He's in a sim. God- your feelings about - for, - Peter are complicated but you know well enough that you hate this. You desperately want to turn around, shake sense into him, but you know it would be useless. Tris was only able to break Four out that time because they're insanely in love with each other- you don't even know if Peter really knows what love feels like.

So that leaves one option.

Suddenly ducking, you hear a bullet come free and fly through the air where your head was, as you squat and turn around. You grab onto Peter's ankle and give a sharp tug; Causing the boy to fall flat on his ass before he can even aim again.

As soon as you can, you climb up and rip the gun out of his hand before trying to scramble away, so you don't have to fight anymore for a multitude of reasons - he's stronger then you, he's faster then you, you're in love with him, - but a powerful hand grabs your ankle this time and the strength with which he uses to drag you back, beneath him this time, is enough to knock the air out of you. "Ah!- "

No- He clenches another hand around your arm and twists hard, stealing a gasp of pain from you and ensuring you don't struggle out of his hold.

He takes your wrist in his hand this time, squeezing so hard it hurts- so you get of the gun.

Peter - or the empty shell, - clicks the barrel into place then and presses it into the side of your neck.

The metal is cold and it shocks you, and you freeze, but your heart is mostly pounding because Peter's going to kill you. Jeanine walked off when he grabbed you again, leaving you to do alone.

You just look at him with eyes for a moment, breathing in and out heavily; Memorising the boy from Dauntless Initiation, that made everyone's lives hell just because he could, for no other reason then because there's nothing left to do for you, and he's pretty. You cant escape, you cant fight back... you're dead.

As that realisation dawns on you, you take a deep, shaky breath and you cant help but raise a shaky hand - the one attached to the arm that Peter is currently twisting with all his might, - , and touch his face. You don't know if he'll just press the trigger before you even get a chance to do this next thing, but you want to try.

"I don't know why Peter, but I always wanted to do this." You whisper, using his name not because he can hear you or you think he's in there at all, but just because that's who you want to kiss.

Then you do it, you curl your hand around the back of his neck and pull his not-resisting head down, and press your lips to his like you always read about- saw older faction members do- heard was done.

When you finish a second later, you're expecting him to just immediately shoot you, but instead you notice how focused his eyes are and your own widen, before he swoops down and presses a longer kiss to your lips.

You wrench him back this time, eyebrows knitted together as you search his face. He's out of the sim!? "Peter!?" You exclaim, full of shock. How did he-

"I kind wanted to do that, too." He tells you.

Scott (Total Drama):

Controlled by- A ridiculous, horrible Chris McLean original(tm) invention (A.K.A, a challenge) that allows a partner (A.K.A, Chaotic Mr Mal) to control the wearers actions. I mean, the object of the challenge is to get through the dangerous obstacle course, but I feel like Mal's gonna have a different kinda fun with this.

"MIKE!" You shout, scrambling out of the way before Scott's arms, and the crowbar in his hands, can come down anywhere on your body. Looking back with wide eyes at your boyfriend, who cant control his movements and is just desperately trying to let go of the damn pole. Turning your head to see Mike, next, you see him hit the control pad on some railing beside him and shrug, a panicked, helpless look on his awkward face.

"Its not working! Chris must have made them glitchy on purpose! Damn, this could really hurt someone!"

Now you look to Chris, eyes wide and furious. That does make sense!- "Hey, I didn't make them. That was the interns- but the idea, yeah, that was mine. Patent pending." Chris shrugs, giving a too-white smile to the some hidden camera.

Whatever, you think, knowing you have to focus on Scott now- so he doesn't kill you. As soon as you return your attention to him, you realise you should never have stopped watching him in the first place, because he is coming right at you again and you shriek- jumping behind him. "Scott!"

"Sorry, Y/N!! I- I cant control myself!" His reflexes are slow, due to him fighting his brain and his limbs, but farmer boy is still strong. If he gets a hold of you, if he gets you- you're done for. You'll be off the show, you might even be dead if he gets your head.

Wincing when he swings again, turning around- jump before he can get all the way turned; Wrapping you arms around him from behind, and holding on tight as you squeeze your eyes closed and bury your face in a shoulder blade. The likelihood of you being able to hold him still for long isn't good but what other choice do you have? You have to stay out of the way of that bar!

Cracking your eyes open, arms locked around your thrashing boyfriend, you peak back at Mike again- and catch just the end of a dark, evil grin. Your eyes widen as your breath clips, lifting your chin from the cotton Scott's tank. What?-

Immediately his elbow rears back and you take a blow to your stomach. "Ah!- " Ohhhh noooo... fuck, that does not feel good... In your pain, you let go of Scott; Stepping back away from him to hold your stomach- but not so far that you leave the obstacle course.

"Y/N!" Mike and Scott both yell, as you real from the pain and Scott's body turns to face you. Mike's voice is frazzled, still, and when you glance at him his face is back to normal too- but you do not trust him for a goddamn second after that look on his face. Maybe this really isn't Chris' fault, for once.

Well, if Mike isn't going to get Scott through the course, then theirs no need for you to play along with the challenge, either. As Scott comes at you again and the pain subsides in your stomach, you manage to reach up and catch his wrist - though you have to use both arms, and both arms tremble with the force it takes to hold Scott's arm and the dreaded crowbar above your head in the air and away from you, - , eyes slipping to Scott's. "Come on- " You force the words out, struggling to hold him off. "You gonna make me fight you Scotty?"

"I!... Cant!... Stop it!... "

Beginning to panic, because in a few seconds your arms are going to give and you're going to get a nasty wallop to your face, you glance quickly to the helmet on Scott's head controlling him. Okay. "Stop fighting it." You whisper quickly, looking back to Scott's eyes.

"What!?" He scowls, immediately. "No way! I'm not gonna hurt you- "

"Scott!" You snap, frustrated and losing your grip.

"Oh, fine!" With one last growl of effort, Scott lets go of the reigns and you let go of his arm- immediately shooting forward into his body so his arm flies down and knocks the ground with a BANG. Your hands go up quickly, and snatch the helmet off of his head; Chucking the bundle of rusted metal and wires onto the forest floor behind him.

For a moment everything is still. Scott stops moving entirely, and you're afraid you hurt him, yanking that mind-controlling helmet away from him. You slowly step back, wanting to look at his face and see if he's alright-

When the crowbar hits the ground heavily, and Scott grabs you back, wrapping his arms around you tightly- protectively. Immediately you relax into him and sigh, in relief. "I'm so sorry, Y/N! I don't know what happened, the damn machine musta glitched! I tried to hold back, but!-

"Its okay," You reply gently, holding him back just as tight as you bury the side of your face in his chest. "I know you weren't in control!- "

"But STILL- my pa didn't teach me much about romance but I do know that y'should never try and hit 'em with a prybar!" He gives you another squeeze.

[roguesandsaviors]

Negan Drabble

Another request for @anna-hawk , who this time gave me the freedom to do any character. I debated Gabriel from Good Omens, Cable from Deadpool, and Brock Rumlow from the MCU. In the end, went for Negan, since she had requested one previously for him. This is a little continuation of that previous drabble. The prompt was from the kisses list and it was #24, kisses for a cover.

You could have groaned, fighting the urge to throw your phone against the wall. You loved Lori Grimes but the woman was going to be the death of you. Both she and Rick seemed to think that they needed to find you someone to be with after a few miserable failed attempts on your own. Their choices had been even worse. Where they dredged up these so-called suitors was beyond you but you knew that you had to do something to get out of the upcoming dinner and quick. There was no chance that you were sitting through another stifling evening next to someone who would have no interest in anything you had an interest in.

You didn't know what to do about it. There wasn't a lot of time for you to get it sorted out and it wasn't like you had anyone you could call. There was an instant where you debated texting Negan. The problem was he was already busy tonight. Between a rock and a hard place, you couldn't take an illness. There wasn't any much that you could really do, as annoying as it was. With that in mind, you decided to move to get yourself ready for the evening.

Sitting at the bar, waiting for the other two to arrive, you were already helping yourself to a drink. It was what was going to help get you through this evening. You loved your friends dearly but sometimes their intentions, while good, were sorely misplaced. Nursing the drink, you tried not to let your misery show too much on your face, not needing anyone to say anything to you and risk having an issue with your friends.

"Y/N, I thought you were having dinner with the Grimes tonight." That was Negan's voice. Glancing up, you found yourself smiling despite the upcoming situation that you were stuck facing.

"And I thought you were busy out tonight, not at the local bar," you quipped back. He settled into the seat beside you.

"This don't look busy to you? I'm real fucking swamped right now." He chuckled and it brought a laugh out of you. "Date ended up standing me up but figured that I wouldn't waste the trip to the bar and enjoy some drinks. You meeting up with them here for dinner?" You nodded, sipping your drink.

"Yeah, and Lori has found me another one."

"Oh Christ. Is she ever going to quit?" Negan got himself a little more comfortable, leaning against the bar top, body angled towards yours.

"No, it doesn't seem like it. Hence," you lifted the drink. "I don't know what she is thinking when she picks them out. I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the effort and what she is trying to do for me." It was a discussion that you had with him before, generally with a couple drinks or after a particularly horrendous blind date.

"Shit, I'm sorry sweetheart." He shook his head and rubbed at his chin for a moment. You cocked a brow in silent question but weren't able to say any more when there was a call of your name. That would be Rick and Lori. You shifted to get up, ready to give Negan a smile and a goodbye when you were pulled closer to him and into a surprise kiss. Caught completely off guard, you didn't do anything to fight against it. When Negan pulled back, he gave a wink. "Go with it."

"Y/N!" You jumped at the shout of your name and looked towards Negan. "Damn doll. You here with me at all?" He laughed as he moved to sit with you, Brutus at his heels and Carl following. You had all been playing out in the snow, the big goof of a dog loving to chase and catch snowballs while you were watching Carl for the Grimes. Seeing Negan play with the dog had started you on thoughts on how the relationship with your husband, at least the romantic aspect of it, had begun.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here." You leaned over and kissed his cheek, realizing just how cold it was. That meant that you were going to need to get Carl inside and warmed up. "Just a little lost in thought is all." You promised him before turning to Carl, offering some hot chocolate to head inside. Negan wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close as you moved inside, choosing not to press what you had been thinking about. If it hadn't been for Rick and Lori in the end, you likely wouldn't have ended up with Negan, so in their own way, they did help tremendously.

[dweetwise]

I'm hollering at these dummy thicc incidents with the reader and the killers, would Herman tell the others of these incidents or Pyramid Head would do sharades/sign language of how thicc the reader is and now every trial thicc!reader is in is now filled with constant teasing or flirting/wolf whistles from the killers?

[eyy thanks for the prompt! i wasn’t sure where to go with it and it ended up pretty weird, but here it is anyway!]

warning: although it’s portrayed in a light-hearted manner reader does technically get sexually harassed in this, so anyone who’s uncomfortable with it might want to skip this one

Killer thirst: Pyramid Head X dummy thicc reader /X various killers (crack)

“What the hell is wrong with your buddies lately!?” you complain to Pyramid Head. Ever since the two of your started officially dating, the others killers have been shamelessly thirsting after you in trials. The pyramid tilts in a question and he grunts inquisitively. ‘What did they do?’

“Where do I even begin?” you sigh in annoyance.

It started when you were minding your own business, peacefully working on a generator. There had been no sign of the killer and you were just starting to zone out in a daydream about muscular thighs covered by an apron, when you heard a nearly inaudible click. You’d glanced around in confusion before spotting Ghostface laying prone on the ground behind you, camera pointing up at your backside and taking photos of your ass from a lewd angle. The killer chuckled at having been caught as you took off in a sprint, but not before angrily kicking the camera from his hands.

The next trial, you were up on a hook and decided to attempt escape. You reached up to the hook, trying to pull your body weight up, back arching in effort and breasts jiggling from your heaving breath — when you heard a fucking wolf whistle. The killer, the Legion boy with a bandana, was looking at your efforts, leaning cockily against a nearby tree. “What the hell do you want?” you spat, glaring at the teen while still trying to struggle from the hook. The killer shook his head in amusement before doing a crude gesture with his hands, making you falter in surprise and your grip on the hook slip. What a brat!

You’d barely had any time to complain about the two masked killers to your friends, before you were whisked away and to a trial where you’d had to deal with the Clown. “Don’t run, pussycat! Come on over and give daddy some sugar! HUEHUEHUEUGGHH COUGH COUGH!!” The killer had been even more disgusting than usual, yelling obscenities while tunneling and camping you for all five gens. You found yourself almost missing the gross wheezing and coughing the killer normally did, as it was much preferable to whatever the hell this was.

When you’d faced Deathslinger the next trial, you almost already expected an inappropriate comment when he found you first. But he just chased and downed you normally—huh. “Gotta love a gal with some meat on ‘er bones,” the killer finally drawled when picking you up on his shoulder, hands squeezing your love handles. Ah. He just waited for the right moment. When the cowboy hoisted you up on a hook, he’d leaned closer than necessary, muttering a suggestive “Lemme know if yer ever itchin’ fer a ride,” in your ear before leaving to hunt your friends.

When you faced Freddy, you were already prepared for your inevitable doom. Sure enough, soon the perv had you slugged and was standing over you, looking awfully smug. “I’m you boyfriend now, honey cheeks,” he’d chuckled menacingly. “Not even close,” you argued, rolling your eyes. This crispy bacon twink didn’t stand a chance against your real boyfriend, buff as all hell and delightfully mischievous. You sighed happily at your daydream, tuning out Freddy’s incel monologue in the background. Soon enough, the last gen got done and you were up and running with adrenaline, leaving Freddy to bite the dust.

Your next trial was the Pig, and you’d felt elated. Finally a female killer! Your joy was short-lived though, as you were soon cursing out the Jigsaw boxes with a beeping reverse bear trap on your head. When you cut yourself on the damn thing again and had to remove your hands to start over, there was an unmistakable flick of a switchblade before you felt a warm, soft body pressing up against your back and a heartbeat blaring in your ears. “Let me help you with that,” the killer had purred in your ear, voice muffled by her mask. “Wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty face,” she said, running a finger down your cheek. With her so close, the timer had paused and you were able to search the last box without the threat of your head getting split in half, which you could sort of appreciate.

The last trial you had was with Myers. Surely the taciturn killer would stick to killing you? It always seemed like his only interest in life was murder. He was running his no heartbeat build, which, not ideal but you’d take what you could get. It made you jumpy as hell and, wouldn’t you know it, the next corner you rounded he was standing right there and you nearly bumped into him. Myers raised his hand and you prepared for the stab — when he decided to grab your boob instead. You both froze and you should probably have been offended, but the way his hand just awkwardly rested on your breast was not sexual in the slightest. He tilted his head, giving the flesh a slight squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and goddamnit you were not above slapping him — when Myers recoiled away in disgust and did a complete 180, smacking face first into the wall in his haste to get away from you.

“That’s what happened!” you end your story, crossing your arms and looking at Pyramid Head demandingly. “So, do you have something to say? It seems awfully convenient they decided to perv on me as soon as we made this official!”

The pyramid turns away in shame.

“Babe. What. Did. You. Do,” you try again. There’s a sigh. And then he whistles and makes an hourglass shape with his hands. And then, to your mortification, he does an air thrust.

“Oh my God,” you mumble, burying your face in your hands in shame. Great, he told all the killers about your... assets, and that you’re sleeping together. But why would they approach you and risk his wrath? Unless...

“Did you tell them we’re dating?” you ask. Pyramid Head snorts, and points at... his crotch. Wow, eloquent. “Yeah, you told them we’re fucking, congrats,” you snark, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think they know that we’re, y’know, exclusive. Because they, or at least some of them, weren’t just teasing. They were definitely, uh. Propositioning me,” you clarify.

He’s silent but you can feel him tense up. Then he hums, demanding. ‘Which ones?’

“Uh. The cowboy at least. And that one Legion — actually, you know what, they were all really fucking out of line and need a stern talking to. Err, gesturing to,” you tell him.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just snort and keep cuddling you. He stands up, placing you gently back on your feet before squaring his shoulders and drawing his sword out of the ground, a dark energy radiating off him.

“... You’re not planning on talking, are you?” you ask warily. Not that you particularly care about the well-being of the killers who have murdered you countless time. If anything, it’s kind of hot that Pyramid Head wants to defend your honor like this.

He chuckles darkly, giving your shoulder an encouraging squeeze. ‘Let me handle this’. You watch your boyfriend leave to go find his friends, sword dragging ominously behind him.

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Request Rules

I will try to be as simple as I can about this ^^

These are requests; not commissions

I only ask that you please keep requests as vague as possible when it comes to the reader. My goal is to try and make every fic as neutral as possible so mostly everybody is able to put themselves in the situation at hand. If you would like something specifically catered for you then please ask about commissions/special requests.

BUT! I would prefer something other than "HCs for [X]" because at that point I don't know what you want ^^'

I would appreciate if a prompt is what you ask for, give me a story to write you. (I'll accept something like a reader who is clingy, has glasses, etc., but not a reader with specific hair color, body type, etc.)

That means that every reader I write for is gender neutral and I will provide no description for any of them UNLESS the sitution really calls for it(but thankfully I find my way around things).

The only non-gender neutral part would be in NSFW fics where I will typically write a reader with female genitalia. However, you can always request for the opposite(the reader will be gender neutral no matter what)

Characters I will NOT write for(sorry I have my personal reasons and it's really because these characters make me uncomfortable):

Freddy Krueger

Anybody from TCM

Kenneth Chase/Jeffrey Hawk (The Clown)

Ji Woon Hak (Trickster)

Billy Lenz

Characters I will not write for romantically/sexually because they're underaged(so you can request them but platonically please)

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

The Entirety of the Legion

Things I will NOT write:

Dub Con + Non Con + Assault

Match Ups

Incest

Minors as can be seen previously

Specific readers as can be seen previously

Nothing discriminatory

Things that kind of lead into yandere territory(I know I know, these are KILLERS we're talking about but there is a limit even then)

Cheating (UNLESS it's about a character that is not the reader or character in question)

Abuse (UNLESS it's brief mention of something in the past, or anything that does not involve the character in question doing so to the reader and vice versa)

Abortion + Child Birth (Pregnancy + Parent Scenarios are okay!)

I mostly just wanted to detail what I will not be writing for and I'd rather not annoy with what I will do because I'm pretty open to anything that does not have to do with these things. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask, I don't bite! But the slashers might~

[trashyslashers]

Do you think you could do the jealousy prompt from before, but with Doctor, Clown, Michael, and Pig if possible?

Assuming I got the correct one…

Original prompt: Evan, Frank and Joey getting really jealous/possessive about their male!s/o when they see him talking to, laughing with, and having fun with the other male Survivors

———————————————————————————————————–

Herman Carter | The Doctor:

A jealous Herman is much rarer than an affectionate Michael, if we’re being entirely honest. Herman’s fairly confident in himself and the relationship - he knows that none of the other Survivors have even a remote chance of getting in between the two of you, and he trusts you around them.

It’s when you start spending more time around them than you do with him that he starts to feel funny about the situation. Praise is pretty big in your relationship with him; he’s quite a sucker for when you praise his intelligence. It’s when you start making mentions to him about some of the other guys in the realm that he gets a weird twinge in his heart - how strong David is, how mature and levelheaded Bill is in even the most dire situations. I wouldn’t say it hurts his ego or anything, but he definitely feels odd.

Herman has absolutely no qualms about being possessive. While he won’t go too overboard with it and will tone it down if you tell him to knock it off (gotta be a gentleman, y’know), the looks he’ll give you and the way he rests his large hand on your shoulder with a slight shake of his head when you’re talking about stuff you did with them communicates his feelings perfectly. 

Jeffrey Hawk | The Clown:

To be entirely honest I don’t think he’d give too much of a damn. He  accepted, long ago, that he was kind of a piece of shit and that you’d be much better off with someone else, so he doesn’t find himself too jealous or upset when he notices you spending more time around the other male Survivors. Sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

The only time I could really see him having an issue with it is if you started spending all of your free time with them, away from him. Sure, he gets you maybe not wanting to be with him all the time - but really? You were his boyfriend - didn’t it make sense for you to spend at least some time with him? He’ll bring it up in a way that makes it seem almost as if he’s joking - “What? Ya not like me anymore or something?” He gets mad - really mad - if he feels like you’re being harmed or taken advantage of, though.

While he can be and does get possessive, he keeps it super toned down, unless he’s in a pissy mood or something really sets him off. Jeffrey is a bit of a stalker - not nearly as much as Michael or Danny, but sometimes he’ll linger in the woods around your campfire and watch on as you interact with the other Survivors. His idea of possession is more so… secretly following you around to make sure none of the others try anything funny with you.

Michael Myers | The Shape: 

Michael isn’t just jealous and possessive - he’s obsessive. It’s just a part of him. He obsesses over you in the sense that he follows you almost everywhere; it’s actually hard for other guys to talk to you because of how intimidating he is as he looms in the distance behind you. Of course, though, there are times that Michael is called to a trial and you aren’t - which gives you the opportunity to actually interact with the others without Michael scaring everyone.

Michael’s possession of you is almost akin to kidnapping; he has no problem with keeping you at “his” house on Lampkin Lane, or at least keeping you next to him in the woods around the campfire. If Michael feels he may lose you to someone else, he absolutely will not want you to leave his side.

He gets a kind of sick joy from killing - not sacrificing - anyone he thinks is trying to get too cozy with you during trials. He looks them right in the eye as he jams the knife deep into their stomach, much rougher than how he usually is. There’s some sort of odd joy found in knowing that you can see what he’s doing, too. 

Amanda Young | The Pig:

Amanda absolutely does get jealous, and it’s an odd sight to see. Her jealousy is much more quiet and subtle - if she’s maskless it’s incredibly evident in her face; a silent anger in her eyes, she’s more silent than usual. Her jealousy is mainly aroused by when you seemingly blow her off (not that you’re actually blowing her off), when she feels like you’re starting to favor someone else over her.

Amanda has some horrendous trust issues, and while I wouldn’t say she has abandonment issues she definitely has her insecurities. Before she was taken by the Entity she’d witnessed that whole mess with John proclaiming his love for Lynn (for those that haven’t seen the movie, he hallucinated that a woman named Lynn was his wife, and he had told her that he loved her), and as she laid there dying she felt as if she’d lost everything - a feeling she’d be damned before ever subjecting herself to again.

Her possessiveness isn’t shown much towards you. Instead, she goes back to her old ways - making her games unwinnable. She tinkers with her RBTs and makes a select few of them unable to be disarmed. Those are placed on the Survivors that she deems are threats to your relationship. Even though they don’t do anything out of trials, she sure enjoys seeing the panic as they realize that none of the boxes around have the key that they need. They’ll learn their lesson soon.