#kenneth chase x reader

[vikkirosko]

Hello. Can I ask Clown, Trickster (if you're writing about those two) and Deathslinger with hyperactive S/O?

Headcanons Hyperactive

🌼 Clown x Reader 🪶

You caught Kenneth's attention during the trials. He planned to just walk up to you while you were trying to fix the generator and attack you, but he stopped when he saw how you were distracted from fixing it every time there was a rustle, crows cawing or something else. Because of this, you were constantly making mistakes while fixing the generator. It even started to seem funny to him. He didn't know the reason why you were acting like that, but he was interested in watching you

When you started chatting, he found out that the reason for your behavior was that you were hyperactive. It was difficult for you to focus on completing tasks and sometimes it seemed that you were distracted even during conversations. Kenneth liked to watch how quickly you switched your attention, but he wouldn't let you near his bottles, not knowing what might happen

When you were on the same trials, he was watching you. He laughed at you, seeing how you were distracted once again. Your comrades took advantage of the fact that he was easier to spot when you were around, but that didn't mean he was going to spare them. He was the only one who made allowances for you, giving you a head start so that you could run away a little

Clown enjoyed spending time with you. For the first time in a long time in his life, there was a person who was next to him, who stopped being afraid of him and who he really liked. He wasn't going to miss his chance when finally, in this strange world among the fog, he found the person he wanted to be with

🏜 Deathslinger x Reader 🔧

When Caleb first saw you, he was surprised. You tried your best to fix the generator, but every time you were distracted by some rustle or the screams of your comrades in the distance. Because of this, you made mistakes and got injured. When you got closer, you told him that the reason for this was your hyperactivity

You often kept him company at Glenvale. When you didn't have to run away from anyone and fix generators, it was much calmer there and if you close your eyes to some things, it was even beautiful there. You were sitting next to Caleb when he was calibrating his weapon or wandering around the saloon, studying what was interesting there. You often asked Cable different questions to find out more about this place. Caleb loved watching you quickly shift your attention from one thing to another

Deathslinger couldn't help you during trials. He saw how hard you tried, but he understood that if he helped you, it would only make it harder for you to live, because the survivors would be sure that you were a traitor. Therefore, all he could do was deliberately let you escape, as if that was the way it was supposed to be and he had no hidden reasons

Caleb enjoyed spending time with you. He hadn't been this close to anyone in a long time. He understood that you would not be together forever, because this world was so unpredictable. That's why Caleb spent time with you while he could. Your hyperactivity was a sweet part of you, and even when you were distracted, he knew you weren't doing it on purpose

🎶 Trickster x Reader 🎤

Ji-Woon has always liked the attention of others. He reveled in the attention of his fans, which was quite a lot, but when you appeared in his life, he found a new source of attention that he wanted to get. He liked it when you listened to what he was saying, when you looked at him. But when your hyperactivity made itself felt, Ji-Woon felt annoyed. He didn't like it when something else caught your attention

Because of your hyperactivity, it was difficult for you to survive during trials, but Trickster always gave in to you a little, pretending not to notice you, while you tried your best to focus on fixing the generator, but you were distracted and made mistakes because of it. However, when you were alone, he liked it when your attention was focused on him. That's why when your attention turned to something else, he made sure that you only looked at him

When he was sure that you weren't listening to him, he would sit you down next to you and look you in the eye, whispering something to you in Korean. You didn't know Korean, so you didn't understand what he was saying, but your attention returned to him, which made him smile contentedly. Ji-Woon liked how cute you blushed when he got your attention

Trickster liked to get the attention of others, and especially yours. Your hyperactivity wasn't a problem for him, because he knew how to get your attention back. At other times, your hyperactivity even seemed nice to him. He liked watching you get distracted from what you were doing over and over again

[hej-krukowaty]

I just think he's neat

[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).

[5eraphim]

dbd killers w/ somnophilia

Characters: The Clown, The Shape, The Mastermind, The Deathslinger, The Doctor

Rating: M

Content Warnings: Somnophilia, dubcon, toxic relationship dynamics

Word Count: 1.3k

(song inspo)

The Clown

He is a dirty, dirty, dirty old man. The clown is easily one of the most perverted killers in the game. Somnophilia is just another kink among his long list of perversions. Likely even one of his personal favorites.

He loves to drug you with whatever heavy sedative he can concoct, something he knows you have no hope of actually resisting. Kenneth firmly believes the weak must fear the strong, even if it's not a fair fight. This is another way to control you and keep you under his command. The instant gratification here is immensely appealing.

Loves the feeling of using his own body weight to pin you down, especially if he can feel the way you try to fight back while still weakened and encumbered by sleep, totally oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Additionally, he loves to tie your hands down while he takes advantage of you like this, thinking about how terrified you'll be when you eventually wake up.

When you are awake, he reminds you of how he sees your sleeping body as "free to use." Your body is nothing more than a commodity to him or a vessel he can use for his own pleasure and gratification. To Kenneth, your free will, mind, and intellect are all second value to your body and the satisfaction you can bring him.

The Shape

This more direct perverted side started as a by-product of his fondness for watching you sleep. Slowly over time, growing more and more emboldened around your sleeping body. Always wanting to see how close, how he could touch, how he could manage to provoke you before you stirred or awoke. Though more often than not, Michael is sly enough to know how to have his fun without you waking up suspecting a thing.

Loves to leave kisses all over your body while you sleep, which turn into bruises and bitemarks when you awaken, especially on areas like your lower stomach or thighs. Likes to get as close as possible to the sensitive area between your legs, watching how they tremble and twitch in your sleep while you are oblivious to what is happening.

Michael is far more attracted to the dominance of the act and the helplessness on your end. Rather than the transgressive nature in and of itself.

The Mastermind

Orgasm alarm clock extraordinaire. As one of the most prominent doms in the game, Albert prefers subs to be obedient and well-behaved rather than bratty. Thus, Albert is drawn to the appeal of taking you when you have no choice but to follow his lead and are at his mercy.

He likes to choke you out while you're asleep, even though it almost always results in you waking up immediately. The power he feels in the moment, no matter how brief it may be, is unparalleled.

Albert loves to record you and take pictures of you in your sleep. Sometimes it's when your clothes are already torn off your body, or after you're in a compromising position or something lewd like that, but not always. There's something about how you look so unaware and corruptible that Albert can't get enough of! Of course, these photos are strictly for his eyes only, though he would certainly consider using these as leverage to keep you under his command. And if you ever were dumb enough to try and cheat on him or try to leave him, Albert would leak them in a heartbeat.

(In the Resident Evil games) Albert is used to working late into the night and returning home when you've fallen asleep hours beforehand. It was only a matter of time before he realized your effect on him while unconscious. If you really loved him, surely you wouldn't see anything wrong with him using you to relieve a little stress and tension after a long day, right?

The Artist

Carmina is not the type to wait until you've fallen asleep at all! Instead, she lives for the thrill of toying with you while you're on the edge of sleeping and awakening. Especially into the way, you look so vulnerable like this! How you can be so extra-sensitive to her touch and how she plays with your body, white looking so at peace and beautiful, is breathtaking.

Will be sure to tell you how beautiful your moans sound while you're still half-asleep. Carmina generally prefers partners who are a bit more vocal, so she's sure to treasure every sound you make like this.

Genuinely thinks it's super romantic when you fall asleep in her arms, with her fingers inside you.

Loves to leave long scratches along your back and torso while you're asleep for you to discover on your own the following day. Carmina is always so gentle and cautious around you when you're awake. It's moments like this that help her to alleviate a bit of light-hearted aggression and sadism.

Carmina almost always can satisfy herself using your body without rousing you from sleep. Still, if she were to slip us and accidentally awaken you, she'd be able to lull you back to sleep very quickly. Even in moments of high passion like this, Carmina can almost always maintain at least some level of self-control, keeping you calm and helping you fall back asleep without frightening you.

The Death Slinger

Unlike everyone else, Caleb prefers to take you when both of you are tired rather than when he's wide awake and you're not. Also, he prefers something a bit more low-key with you, like grinding or deep kissing, rather than full intercourse.

If he could keep you like this forever, he would. He despises the way life has been so cold and cruel to him, and having something soft and warm in his bed to return home is more than enough to satisfy his jaded loneliness. Because of this, Caleb finds himself more interested in cuddling your sleeping body, holding you close to his, while he knows you won't try to leave or move away than actually fucking you.

If he were feeling a bit more adventurous, he might consider binding your arms together or to the bed just to see how you'd look, motionless and ensnared like fresh prey. You looked like the perfect prey before your hunter.

Loves whenever you nod off while the two of you are spooning. Caleb loves to start off soft and gentle, only to slowly become more frenzied and heated. Seeing how much more he can get away with while you become less and less able to stop him.

The Doctor

There's this excellent post by @mara-xx217​ who suggests Herman would have a medical insertion fetish. Given the sheer magnitude of his sadism, it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine someone like him taking advantage of you while you're out to do something like that to your body.

He is only slightly less into somnophilia than the others because he generally prefers to torment you while you're awake, and he can really appreciate your reactions. Because of this, he may try to concoct something that would give you nightmares while you're in a deep sleep. He knows he won't be able to fully watch and savor your fear, but even though it's less fun for him, Herman knows that won't make it any less of a hell for you to go through.

When he can, Herman prefers to use injectables or gasses to try and get you to fall asleep the fastest. Rather than some of the others who would rather watch you fall asleep slowly or wouldn't try anything unless they knew you'd been out for some time now. Herman is too addicted to control and power to wait for you to be the one to drift off on your own.

Herman loves how powerful and intelligent he feels looming over your poor, dumb sleeping body. It makes him feel as though he has the power of a God while you can do nothing but sit back and watch.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 12)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie📍 Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 12 Eddie

Brady tried to cut some corners to bring you and Alastor down but ends up just hurting himself.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, po-po, 5-0, down at the gun club, not an accurate portrayal of 1930s New Orleans Leadership, mystery kisses, brief thoughts of violence, illiteracy, @minkdelovely」

MDNI 👮 🚓

Edward Freeman met Kenneth Brady when the younger man was partnered with him. He was bright eyed, and had a sense of justice Freeman appreciated. He was already tired of the rigamarole of police work, so the fresh energy reinvigorated his early days and long nights. It was rather pointless though, police work, given the people in charge weren’t fans of cracking down on the illegal booze business. It was making too much money under the tables and in handshakes.

The nation was still reeling from the crash of the market nearly two years prior. Any way to get ahead, to stay with your chin above the rising waters, well… what harm is there really in feeding your family? The end justifies the means, right? And Brady didn’t seem to disagree too much with that sentiment. 

So when the typically stringent, but otherwise soft spoken and relaxed, Brady began to…devolve into someone a little too myopic, Freeman wasn’t quite sure how to handle him. They’d been rather laissez-faire about the morality of things for so long. They tried to keep violence at a minimum so their fellow citizens could enjoy their city. That was the extent of it. But, Brady was becoming obsessed. 

It started normally enough. Brady bringing up a missing husband. Later on, a missing bartender. Soon he was snooping on to other’s cases, convinced something was connecting them. 

But, given the times and the character of such people, well, Freeman couldn’t quite understand Brady’s fervor. Sure. Some of them probably ended up under backyards and in the water. Hell, quite a few of them he’d have helped do away once he got the real dirt on them. A conspiracy? Or a mass killer? That seemed implausible at best. There was simply no indication of a grande scheme. 

Brady kept pushing. Walking the streets at night with ears open and eyes peeled, for any inkling of what was going on. 

He just couldn’t accept that sometimes people leave town or jobs. Very few of them were actually reported by loved ones, even the ones that had them.

Then came along the widow Dupre, watery eyed and shaking about her missing adult son. Who, from what they’d uncovered, was a real piece of work.

Freeman let Brady start his investigation, but as it became clear he was adding it to his pile of random disappearances, Freeman had to step away. He could see the obsession ruining his friend. 

At a rare dinner with the families, the stress on Brady’s wife’s face was visible for all to see. She cornered Freeman in the kitchen when he went for more coffee, asking if Brady was stepping out on her or if he truly had been working so hard on something big. 

He hardly knew what to say. Neither were true. He’d been working late, but on a wild goose chase. 

When he dragged a clean cut and confused woman into the station, Freeman knew he’d really lost the fucking plot. 

“She’s his accomplice. I know it. Her fella is the man. I’ve got him fingered.” Brady pointed at you through the closed door. You weren’t listening to their voices in the hall, the name still ringing in your head. The name you'd both sacrificed to keep secret. 

Alastor.

Freeman hissed, “You can’t arrest people for knowing a guy! A boogie man at that, Kenny. Come on.” 

“I have her confession for prostitution. It’s all clean and by the book. And, I have a witness.” Brady tapped Freeman’s arm with the back of his hand and led him down the hall to another room, “He saw her and her guy throw a body in the river.”

Well, shit.

“You found a body? The Dupre son?” Freeman considered what he’d said. The river? Why the river? Bodies didn’t always make it to the sea. It’d be a sloppy misstep for this supposed murderous mastermind.

Brady sighed, his parade a little rained on. “...No, but I have a witness right there. And, I got the name of her fella. I just need to find which station he’s at and I’m off to the races. I bet you my house this guy’s good for it.”

Ah, so. He had next to nothing. Freeman just nodded and took a calming breath. “Alright, are we starting with the woman or this guy?”

“Oh, for sure her.” Bready turned to open the door, but Freeman shot his hand out to stop him. 

“And this is the one who gave you the runaround?” Freeman had heard so much about you already, he wanted to prepare himself for whatever tricky shrew was waiting for him. He followed his partner through the door and took you in fully. Your stare was distant and glassy. You’d been crying and you seemed to be shaking slightly from the cold of the room as fall’s night air slipped in through the window. 

You could, reasonably, be his daughter. A similar age for sure, similar build, same hair color. Same penchant for the wrong kinda guy, apparently.

He recalled all of the ways Brady had spoken about you. The image in his head was a bird faced woman with sharp eagle eyes and tight lips. Someone decidedly ugly with a permanent scowl and mischief behind quick glances.

And here was a woman, vulnerable and quite nice to look at it. Hair obviously groomed well when not manhandled by cops, and a rather handsome dress which indicated a good personality by the current standards. The shoulders had flat bows that let their ribbons fall onto your bare shoulders. Feminine. Suitable. Not much skin showing. otherwise. A burlesquer seemed to the kind who didn’t wear clothes often, but he supposed everyone has a work uniform after all. Even the nude dancers. Who was he to judge you for your professional clothing requirements? You were here and modest and that’s what mattered.

He took a seat, sliding the folder Brady had set down into the space in front of him. “I hear you’re not too fond of disclosing your personal information.”

It had been several hours since you’d arrived, and now they chose to grace you with their presence? You’d been tossed into a room and left alone for so long, it seemed more like punishment than bureaucracy.

Brady’s bright blue eyes only get clearer and darker with every ounce of anger you inspired in him. An angry sea churning up violently behind his mean mug. He was practically sneering at you. 

“Can you blame me? The men in this city are certifiable. Case in point, this hound you call a cop.” You had the forethought to keep your shoulders pulled inward, gesturing with your chin.

“Detective.” Brady corrected. 

“Same thing, jackass.” Eyes rolling, you pushed back against the chair causing the front legs to lift for a second. Returning your glare to him, you honed in on the messy details. You remembered his hair well from that first meeting in front of the cafe. It clearly had become oily and weighed down from less frequent washing. The skin under his eyes was looking dark and thin. “You look like shit, by the way. Should sleep instead of bothering honest performers.”

“Ha, there you are. True colors shining through finally.”

“How was my mom? Not much of a talker.”

“Fu-,” Brady flinched forward, chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. It took a tensing of your arms to keep from openly reacting.

“Ya’ll, enough. Now, don’t be too sour with us. We’re just working off your own words,” Freeman opened the folder to find your confession. It had been typed nice and neat and labeled DOE, JANE. He turned it to you briefly, eyebrows hitching as if to ask if you remembered it. You glanced at it long enough to see the conversation and names and nodded. Yes, you’d had that conversation. Brady must have typed it mostly from memory, you thought, or he had some quick shorthand. He brought it back to face him and as his eyes roamed the sheet, his shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t seeing what he was expecting. “Could you-?,” he motioned for Brady to point out the part of your last conversation that constituted a confession. Brady tapped a line of text. 

BRADY - Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged. DOE, JANE - Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently. BRADY - And who was that? DOE, JANE - S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening. BRADY - And then he knocked you around? DOE, JANE - Yeah. Got me good. BRADY - And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that. DOE, JANE - Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection. But as soon as he got his money he left.

Freeman’s head lifted slowly from the paper to look at you over the folder, across the table. Your arms were crossed, makeup smeared and running with long dried tears. Your hair mussed. His head turned with a crawl, weighted down with a steel ball of apprehensive horror, to look at Brady. He was leaning on the table with both elbows, staring at you like you’d busted out his car window and shot his dog. 

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” He pushed back, resting his hand on Brady’s shoulder and walking out. In the small room that looked into the interrogation room where the male witness fidgeted, he set the folder and your words down. 

He motioned for Brady to close the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked into place, he smacked the table. 

“That isn’t a confession! It’s a fucking victim statement, Kenny.” He looked through the one way glass at the man seated, “And he wrote a witness report?” He gestured with his head, the man Brady called Joseph sat quietly waiting for their return. His clothes were pulling at the seams, his fingernails crusted with dirt. 

Brady nodded, “Yeah. He came in yesterday and after he told me what he saw he wrote it down there and signed.” He was pointing to a piece of paper he’d left on the same table Kenny was now trying to use for stability. Trying was the keyword. His disbelief was dizzying. 

A small laugh, petulant and bordering annoyed, left his lips. He grabbed a pen, wrote something down, and brushed past him. Freeman marched into the witness room, Brady closely following behind.

“Sir, do me a favor and check I’ve spelt your name properly on this paperwork please.” He held it up. The man looked, found where Freeman's finger was pointing, and nodded.

Freeman looked at Brady with dead eyes, the shutdown of his feelings was an automatic attempt by his body to try and keep from grabbing Brady by the shirt in a fit rage, and turned the paper to reveal the name written to Brady. 

Josanna. Written neatly in block letters. 

Without breaking eye contact with Brady, “And just refresh my memory, sir, what was your statement in regards to again?”

Joseph cleared his throat, “I saw it happen. Down by the river.”

“Saw what happen?”

“The crime.”

“What crime?”

“The one with the guy and the girl. It’s all in there.”

Freeman shoved the written statement into Brady’s chest, “You have half a second to get to the captain’s office before I do.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That man can’t even read his own name let alone write. From what I can tell he’s a random homeless you plied with confiscated booze. What is going on with you?” The gray haired man bellowed from his chair, hands resting on a large pot belly. 

“What does that matter! It’s an illegal hooch den! Naked dancers! Race mixing! She admitted she-,” Brady was pacing a small three foot by three foot square in front of the desk. Freeman had his arms crossed while seated.

“A victim told you she was assaulted. And I-,” the captain leaned back in his chair, “You know exactly how we feel about the wet spots in this city. The, uh, race thing is another issue but— Kenny, you’re one more rogue act from losing your beat. Do you not get that?”

“Rogue? I’m doing legitimate police work. I’m investigating crime! What the fuck is happening here?!” He stopped pacing long enough wave an apology to his boss for the language. 

Freeman sighed, long and heavy. A huff of breath that somehow conveyed his disappointment better than words.

“I decide what constitutes police work and this is not that.” His boss shook his chair side to side, thinking about how to get Brady in line. “It comes straight from the commissioner and the mayor above him. We aren’t to hound the bars under our purview.”

‘I’m not!” He started up pacing again, hands up and open in genuine confused frustration. 

“You’re harassing their dancers! Stalking around their establishments at night freaking people out!” He laughed in disbelief, “Her manager is outside now. Had to shut down for the night because of your little show.”

Brady put his hands on his hips and faced away from the captain. His face enough alone to have him dismissed. 

“I know she’s involved. I know her guy did it. And I know someone’s killing people. Lots of people.” He said it confidently into the corner of the office.

“Kenny. Enough.” Freeman shook his head and stood to leave. 

“One complaint about you and you’re being chained to a desk. Cut her loose, apologize, and go home. I don’t wanna see you anymore tonight. Your freaky little eyes are getting under my skin.” His captain removed his small rounded glasses and rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated his life had come to telling men to stop doing their jobs.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

While you were here anyway, and Brady shooed off Joseph, Freeman decided to speak with you again. He offered you a nod and took Brady’s seat.

It was hard to be friendly, you found. Every minute or so you had to sniffle, nose running long after the tears dried up. Your eyelashes stuck together when you blinked.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, sir.” You sniffled again, hands warming your arms.

Freeman leaned over and offered you his hand, “Detective Eddie Freeman.” You shook it, keeping your hand rather limp to give the appearance of weakness.

“I just-,” he laughed as he set his hand on the table, clicking his ring twice out of habit, “I gotta ask. Did your fella kill Tommy? Are you in some kinda trouble?”

With a scoff and a shake of your head, you found yourself, “No,  but I wish he had. What’s the point of being good if people assume the worst of you anyway?” Reaching out for his hand again, you held his large one in both of your smaller ones, “At least if he’d killed him I’d be sure Tommy’s never coming back to keep his promise.”

Your mother always taught you to make yourself small. Remind the people you needed to believe you that you were not a threat. Play the part they always pigeon holed you into. It was easier than fighting the assumptions. There was power in deception. 

“Your pal is really ruining my life. Even more than Tommy.” You squeezed, 30% strength.  

When you looked up at him, he could only find you to be the image of pitiful girl, “Let me check some things and I’ll have Kenny sending you on your way, miss-?”

“Doe.”

“Right.” His ring rapped against the bright wooden door frame, two times, and your brief time knowing Freeman ended. 

The paralysis set in as soon as the door was shut. You could hear Alastor’s name echoing around in your head, the sound so sharp it made fresh tears well. Brady had heard it, of course. It was for nothing. You worked so hard, kept his name off of your tongue despite the way it always felt so good there. 

Conjured images of Alastor barging into the police station haunted you. What would he say in anger? Brady wasn’t crazy, he was smart and lucky. Nothing could be worse. Alastor could say anything while mad, and Brady could make conclusions he had no business jumping to.

And then he was there in the room with you, and you had to return to the moment and try to calibrate yourself. Who were you now? He already knew you weren’t the damsel in distress, he knew you weren’t weak and frail. Right?

Maybe you’d just be yourself, like you’d let slipped earlier. Your mouth opened and his hand flew up, “Don’t. Shut it.”

“Excu-”

“I’ve been told to apologize and send you home.”

“Oh? And are you?”

Brady smiled, and for a moment you forgot how scary that should be. “No. You’re a liar and you’re aiding a criminal. But you work in a place I’m not supposed to bother. Luckily for me, Alastor’s work surely isn’t one.” Your eyes rolled. Hearing him say the name was like hearing a dog sing opera. Unsettling and unnatural. Perhaps a little impressive from a distance. Unfortunately you were front row and center.

Time with you felt so rare, he wanted to keep you a little longer but couldn’t think of what to say or do. Briefly he entertained grabbing you and violently shaking you until you confessed. He managed to find the strength to bury that down, mouth opening instead in preparation for words he didn’t have yet. 

“Can I go home now?” Rubbing your arms to make it clear how uncomfortable you were, you cut him off like he had you. Not that he had anything to say. 

Brady motioned with his thumb down the hall and said, “Your guy isn’t here to pick you up. Funny name by the way. I got a complaint for an Alastor last week. Socked some man for no good reason. Sounds like a violent fella, kinda guy with a temper when someone speaks I’ll of his lady, or fiancée, I’m told…Anyway, dropped the case since the guy wouldn’t give any more information but maybe I should follow up.”

“Are you so sure I have one, a guy that is?” You simply couldn’t admit Alastor was yours. Never. Not for Brady. “No one’s coming for me. No one’s punched anyone for me either. Though, I’m flattered you think I’m worth the charge. Am I free to leave?” The little tug of your lips into a halfhearted grin warmed you. It was thrilling, lying to his face when you both knew the truth.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t let you take this moment from him. He’d made a massive victory in this personal war and your nonchalant attitude was making something in the back of his skull itch. Somewhere beneath his bone. A new sensation.

A brief and violent flash of knocking the smirk off your tear stained face startled him. You noticed him swallow hard, expression shifting from amused to bewildered. From the outside, all you could read was a frightened widening of his eyes.

“Brady…? If you’re waiting for some man to collect me, I’ll be here all night.” Your voice was softer now, while you couldn’t uncover what was happening in his head, you could tell he was in some kind of turmoil.

A man unable to control his face was often a man unable to control his hands.

His legs lifted his body up and dragged him over to the door.  He opened it, slowly, before leaning against the wall beside it to ensure you passed him in close quarters. He knew he couldn’t keep you there forever.

Maybe this Alastor was a real rough fellow. So cruel he wouldn’t even care if his dame was in a bind. The kind of man to abandon his closest allies when cornered. Maybe he really wasn’t coming for you. Which was fine, he told himself. He’d be seeing him soon.

Following you out, he took the walk as an opportunity to warn you again.

“This won’t end like you think it will.” He said it too loudly for how close he was to you, “It never does for the women.” He stopped at the station’s front desk and leaned into the glossy wooden counter, “Oh! I almost forgot! Congrats on the engagement.”

Turning to say a harsh good night, you caught yourself and turned back, exiting through the station doors without another word to him. No need for polite pleasantries anymore. The game was well and truly over for you. 

“Oh thank god,” Johnny was sitting on the steps of the station and jumped to his feet when you came out, a sight you weren’t expecting. You stopped, confused. He smiled seeing your brows knit and eyes wander past him in search of someone else, “I was going to bail you out but they said there wasn’t any need. Alastor is waiting for you.” 

Like a leak in the hull of your iron-sided ship, it seemed the second Ruth so sweetly dripped that name into Brady’s waiting maw the ocean was spilling in. Every time you heard it fall from another person’s mouth the breach in your metal barriers tore wider. If the Titanic could sink in calm weather what luck did Alastor and you have in the tempest of Brady’s fervor?

“Oh…,” you tried to hide the dejection. He sent Johnny? That was smart, but, why did it sting?

Perhaps it was his six sisters, or maybe he was genuinely a good man, but Johnny’s heart ached at the pitiful tone. He leapt up two steps, “He wanted to come! But I told him it was a bad idea. Tempers and all that. Don’t need any more issues for you tonight. Though admittedly he didn’t seem mad, necessarily.”

A slow nod. Johnny told Alastor what to do? Your eyes looked to the left, that was an odd mental image.

“Thanks, Johnny. I need to return to the theater first.” Your hand reached out for his arm and gave it a squeeze, “I appreciate you.”

“Dont mention it. And your bag is with Alastor.” He let his hand come to yours, “He’s kind of a mess, that one.”

You tensed, accidentally pinching his arm in a flit of panic before drawing it back, “Did he drive home like that?”

He shook his head and handed you the card, “He said,” a pause as his eyes rolled up to search for the exact words, “to tell the host you’re there for him. Called it the Golden Dish, but the card doesn’t mention anything like that…. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask more questions. Like I said, he seemed out of sorts.”

You looked down to inspect it, nervous at the sudden introduction of a paper trail. Nodding, you finally took it with both hands. The face was rather plain: an address in the corner with just the number and street, and an interlocked G and D in the center. Turning it over, you found a pink lipstick kiss stained haphazardly across the back and a small squiggle. Your thumb ran over the clipped right bottom corner. 

What was the Golden Dish? And who was kissing Alastor’s business cards?

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[thewolffairytaler]

To find comfort through each other | Oneshor - Ex Bo Sinclair x Female reader

___________________________

Summary: The reader goes to check up on her best friend after going through multiple days of him not giving her any signs of contact. Their small chatter is a talk about their exes and how to deal with the aftermath, knowing that no matter what happens in the future, they will still have each other.

To say that she wouldn't have ever expected this to happen would be a big lie. After all, that's what she always expected from the idea of dating. Her best friend, Kenneth, or Kenny as she likes to call him, had just broken up with his former significant other. Since he had never answered her calls, or at least got any messages from him, she was starting to get concerned for his well-being. So she went to his apartment complex, opening the door by using the spare key he gave her. Went inside the hallway after leaving behind her outside clothes and grocery bag, as she then noticed a familiar figure sit on the living room couch. Having his hands on his face as he seemed to be thinking deeply about something, she walked towards him at a normal pace.

"What happened, sweetie?" For some, it might sound weird to hear this from anybody. But to (Y/n) and Kenny, this was normal. It was normal for them to call each other by wholesome nicknames. Kenny sighs deeply as he looks down on his feet.

“She dumped me. She said that I was too much to handle.” He says bitterly, looking at her while she listened intently.

"Too much to handle, huh? Those words just bring me deja vu..." She mumbled the last sentence to herself. He lets out another sigh at that, except this time, it was more for breathing reasons.

“You know, I really thought she was the one. I really thought that I was gonna be with her for a long time.” He lets out a small scoff. “Guess you just can’t escape being abandoned.” She went to sit down beside him on the couch.

"It's going to be alright Kenny, you were too good for her anyway." Kenny gives her a small look before leaning onto her shoulder, hiding his face as he takes a deep breath.

“I just don’t know why this keeps happening to me. I just want to be loved, yknow? I just want to feel cared for and feel like I’m wanted in someone’s life, but no, they keep on leaving me.”

"That's because you keep on chasing bad partners. You want the types that just dosen’t give you the result you want in the end." That's at least how (Y/n) sees it, chasing after desires were never a good or a realistic thing. She experienced that the harsh way. Kenny groans out in frustration before sitting up fully.

“Oh yeah, and your love life is any better..” He mumbles a bit while crossing his arms and looking away from her. She slightly gasped at that as she gave him a fake offended look.

"Ey! This is about you and not about me... but I do admit that my past relationships haven't exactly been good either." Kenny looks at her a bit amused on how offended she was after his comeback.

“At least you admit it. Unlike me, you don’t even date anymore.” He pouts as if he wants to act childish at this moment.

"I just..." She sighed a bit as she closed her eyes momentarily to then open them up in a more sorrowful look. "A part of me can't stop thinking about him..." Kenny looks at her in a more sympathetic look, noticing the tone in her voice. He frowns a bit as he moves slightly closer to her.

“Still thinking about him...?” He asks as he knows all too well who she was referring to.

"Bo was.... a difficult man, to say the least. Having a temper, sometimes ignoring my feelings, or just straight-up never say sorry... But I still loved him. Under all those negative aspects, I could tell there were some good in him." Kenny scoffs a bit as she mentions the negative sides of her ex.

“Good? I don’t think I met that side of him. He was too much of an ass for me to even respect him.” He looks over to her. She turned to look at him with her head tilted a bit.

"You know he ain't that type to show vulnerability to anyone." Kenny just rolls his eyes a bit at her when she says that.

“Yeah, like that’s a reason to act that way. I don’t care. Good riddance to him.” He mutters in a grumpy tone. She hummed quietly to that remark.

"What I wanted to say earlier was that it's going to be tough for you at first, but it's going to turn out fine. I'm here for you, just like how you were for me after my break up with Bo." He looks over at her with a softer look on his face after hearing her words, he shook his head.

“No matter how tough times are, you never change. Forever the optimist.” He mutters with a slight smile on his face, obviously still looking grumpy, but that’s just his usual resting face.

"It's not the end of the world, Kenny, even though it feels like it." She reassured him on that. It could have been worse, but it wasn't. It just hurt because he cared too much. Kenny lets out a huff as he thinks on her words.

“I know.. it’s just that for some reason, I can’t get my mind off this, yknow? I know I shouldn’t be so worked up, but for some reason, I just…” He pauses before looking away. “I feel so stupid…” She smiled weakly at that.

"You're not stupid. She's an idiot for dumping such a good guy like you." Kenny lets out a puff from his nose at that comment.

“A good guy...?” He lets out a small laugh before looking down on his feet again. “I guess she’s an idiot then. To throw away a good guy because he was ‘too much to handle’” Kenny mocks with a bitter tone as he repeats her words from earlier.

"If I can handle you, what's to say no other girl could? Besides, I doubt it was because of that. It's probably because she stopped liking you." He sighs heavily as he hears her words.

“You’re probably right. She slowly just stopped making contact with me, and even when we could talk, she didn’t even seem happy anymore. I guess I should’ve seen the signs…” She began putting her hand on his back as she rubbed it gently.

"You'll learn from this relationship, a way of knowing what to avoid in a future relationship with a girl you actually liked. And don't say you loved her, because I could tell you were almost done with her mishaps." His shoulders slump a bit as he says that, obviously still upset at the turn of events. He lets out a small mutter upon hearing her remark.

“Am I that obvious to read?” He says with a pout on his face before shifting so that his head can rest on her shoulder. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking again. “I just thought maybe she was different... But then I quickly started to see her true colours.” After thinking about that for a few seconds, he looked back up to her to ask something that had been bothering him for a while now. "What happens if she does end up coming back to me? You know, trying to fix our past relationship?" Kenny knew it was a possibility. He knew that it could happen. She could come running back to him, saying how she needed him. And Kenny knew he would give in once again. Even if he had been done with her from the beginning. (Y/n) didn't seem to worry as much, though.

"As long as you follow those rules you set up for me back then, you won't ever get back to her. Or at least end up in some friends with benefits situation." He let out a scoff once more as he thought of what she said.

“Yeah yeah, I remember it. I had a whole list of rules so I wouldn’t fall back into that. I really didn’t want you to go back to that douche after all.” She chuckled at his words choices.

"Harsh words, but thank you for caring about me." Kenny lifted his head and shook it.

“How could I not? We’ve been best friends since high school. I had to look out for you the whole time cause you’re too nice for your own good.” Her smile was bittersweet at that. She knew she had a tendency to be too kind to others, but that was a part of her nature. It wasn't exactly east to change.

"Yeah, I could really be without even trying... Hey, could you remind me of the rules again? It had been a while since I've dated, and I don't exactly remember every single detail, so... could you be my tutor?" He changed his sitting position at that request.

“Oh you want to learn from me now, huh?” He says with a sarcastic tone, a smirk on his face. When she just gives him a slightly sarcastic look, he lets out a small scoff. “Alright alright, fine. let’s see...” Kenny thought for a moment before listing the rules one by one.

“One: never pick up the phone once he's calling. He's definitely calling because he's drunk and alone. Two: if he does come to your home, don't let him in. You're going to kick him out eventually. Three: Don't try to be his friend. You're going to wake up in his bed on some days. Four: Don't think about him, because otherwise, his stupid face will never leave your dreams." She smiled instinctively at that, finding it funny how one of his reasons for not liking Bo was because of his looks.

"Really? His stupid face?"

“Of course. There’s just something about his face that just pisses me off. He’s the living embodiment of a douchebag.” Kenny says with a slightly bitter tone upon mentioning the man before listing the rest of the rules. “Five: Don't give in and text him first. Six: Don't believe a word he says. He's always lying. And finally and most importantly, Seven: Don't fall for him. Because that's the biggest mistake you'll ever make.” She recalled and thought about the last word as she muttered to him whilst looking down at the floor.

"... Do you think it really was a mistake for me to date him?" He looks over at her with a slightly surprised look on his face.

“I…” Kenny stutters a bit in his words as he thinks on his response, but ultimately, he shakes his head. “No... no. It wasn’t a mistake. I mean, if you hadn’t dated him, then you wouldn’t have found out how the real him was. You probably would’ve gotten stuck on him even more if you didn’t go through all that pain.” She nodded to that as her gaze switched back to him.

"I'm sorry... I was supposed to comfort you about your ex-girlfriend, and here we are, talking about my ex..." Kenny waves a hand in dismissal.

"No no, it's fine, really... It’s actually better talking about this. At least it takes my mind off my own situation…" He reasures her as he rests his head on her shoulder once again.

"...Hey, Kenny?"She suddenly spoke up, waiting for his response patiently. He looks over at (Y/n) when hearing her call out his name, a small hum coming from him.

“Yeah?” He asks, raising an eyebrow a bit as he looks at her.

"...Your the most amazing friend anybody could ask for." His eyes widened at her words when he heard her say that. His cheeks dusted into a light pink shade as he sat there in silence. It took Kenny a moment before he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet you say that to all your friends...” She shook her head at that.

"Nah, it's only you. I can only have so many good friends who stick by my side, even when we do end up rarely fighting." Kenny scoffs at that with a slight smile on his face.

“Oh please, you’re too kind. You always look on the positive side... Even when I was complaining about Bo for the millionth time, you were still the one telling me to calm down because ‘I’m just worried for you’ and ‘there’s obviously some good in him’.” He mocked in a slightly whiny tone.

"I really did believe in that, though... a part of me still do. I just think he's been through too much to have a healthy relationship." He rolled his eyes at those words.

“Yeah yeah, always defending him… but you’re probably right. It won’t change the fact that I hate him, though.” She thought about his words for a second before mumbling in slight shock.

"... Is that what I have been doing? But... but he didn’t mean to..." Kenny sighs heavily as he turns to face her.

“Listen, just because someone went through something doesn’t give them the excuse to treat others badly. The way he treated you wasn’t right, and you should’ve stood up to that. But no, you were just too nice and let him walk all over you. You just accepted everything and believed his lies because you believed it wasn’t his fault..” She slowly nodded to that.

"... Yeah, you're right. I guess I just couldn't see through that after knowing him for so long." His expression softened up as he looked at (Y/n). He could tell it was difficult for her to accept that fact about someone she cares about, even after everything. a small sigh escaped his lips as he spoke.

“I know you liked him... and it’s hard to admit that someone you had feelings for treated you horribly… but he did, and you know it..” She only looked at him for a few seconds before having a need to change the subject.

"Do you uh... want to watch some series with me? I brought snacks and other things with me since I thought we could have a sleepover." Kenny let out a small puff of air out of his nose as she attempted to change the subject but doesn’t say anything. He gives her a smirk while nodding his head.

“Sure, why not? I’ve got nothing better to do anyway. Besides, I could use that sleepover.” Her head raised up at that as she began standing up from the couch.

"Great! I'll go get the snacks, whilst you can pick the show for us." She swiftly left aftwards. Kenny looked a bit surprised at how quickly you left the room. he was used to your quick thinking to change the subject. Kenny scoffed to himself as he stood up from the couch.

“So I get to pick? That’s a first..” He laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the tv and starts to scroll through movies.

Author's note: This is a different approach to what I usually write, but I listened to a lot of old songs lately, not to mention that I haven't seen this kind of oneshot before, so I had to make it. Also, I hope you like Kenny as a character. I've tried to write him as likeable as I could for an OC since he is supposed to be best friend material after all.

[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.

[spacedoutman]

【𝕻𝖞𝖌𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓 | 𝕬 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖚】

(𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 3)

Description: Kiss was the perfect name for the infamous bank robbers who kissed everything goodbye to go out in a blaze of glory. Wreaking havoc on 1930s America, what happens when the chase ends?

♥ Paul Stanley x Reader

Note: I love folk shit so god damn much and I am so happy to be able to share some of it here. I halfway grew up in the Appalachians so a lot of it I'm actually pretty familiar with! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None for this chapter

𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 4 / 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 2 / 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 1 / 𝖆𝖔3

“You are way too good looking to be working here.” The woman said in a snarky mutter as she snatched the duster from your hands.

Her expression softened. “You’ve been working your ass off all day.” She gave you a quick pat on the back. A wide grin shone on your face. “If you get the kids to bed, you can take whatever you need from my beauty supply—as long as it isn’t everything.” She finished lightheartedly. You nodded.

“Thank you so much, madame!” You bubbled. “I appreciate it greatly!”

“I should thank you for keeping this place so clean.” The woman sighed tiredly, sliding her hands on her hips. “Even if I didn’t have the kids, I couldn’t do as good of a job.”

You smiled. “I appreciate it again, Doris.” Doris nodded. She was taller than a tree but hunched like a willow. Her platinum hair was tied in a thousand colorful curlers—making her plain red dress stand out like red on white.

“Get on, doll.” She said through her thick Queens accent. “See you around.”

“Bless you.”

Doris nodded once and sauntered off. It felt like a boulder rolled off of you. You sighed in relief. The wind seemed to sigh with you as it billowed the flower-patterned champagne curtains through the open window. Your smile lingered as the soft breeze rolled over you. Your shoes clicked across the polished oak floors and arabesque carpets as you left.

The golden setting sun swallowed the rustic living room, making it look straight out of a fairy tale—but all that was on your mind was hitting the bed. You yawned, slouching heavily as you made your weaved around the deep red couch, heading up the stairs. You opened the first door you saw. A wall that looked like a photograph of the evening sky met your eyes—but with color.

Three children snuggled in their beds, peeping over the blankets.

“HI!!” They all whisper-shouted together, packed with cheer.

You chuckled. “Y/N!” The oldest, Eloise, sat up, waving happily. She was a young girl with two blond braids over her shoulders. You waved back, grinning widely. “How are you?” Your heart melted.

“Good and you?” You put on an exaggerated but enthusiastic polite voice, walking over to the small book shelf.

“Good.” Eloise nodded. “Mom told me that was polite.”

“Very.” You cooed.

“Can I hug you?” Another kid, Kenneth, who actually had a head full of carrot orange hair whispered.

“Of course.”

The children climbed out of their beds and tip-toed over like it was Christmas and past curfew. You hugged them all. The kids overjoyed grins lit up the room. “Can you read a fairy tale tonight?” Eloise asked. “We all agreed on it this time, actually.” Kenneth chuckled. He playfully crossed his arms and looked away, pouting dramatically.

The youngest looked down. He crept over to his bed and sat down, wrapping himself in his deep blue quilt. Your expression softened. your brows drew together. “I read you two’s pick the day before yesterday.” You said gently. “Would you mind letting Frank pick for now?” Kenneth and Eloise looked at each other. Kenneth lowered his head. Eloise put a finger to her chin.

“Alright!” Eloise enthusiastically opined. “He just doesn’t speak up enough.”

“It’s best to include everyone.” You reassured. Kenneth nodded. “Now, what would you like, Frank?”

“A book about war.”

Meanwhile.

Gene’s foot tapping made a great drum beat. He played the fiddle so quick it should’ve lit on fire, nodding along to the tune he and Paul sang. Paul’s hand danced on the dulcimer while he strummed with the other. Another chaotic song about morning whiskey. They’d get it right some time. The two didn’t even drink. No matter how far down the night weather plunged, the loft hoarded heat.

The roof was just high enough for the two to sit up all the way—but one wrong breath and piles of dust and hay and maybe even an empty birds nest would pile onto their faces and possibly suffocate them.

One of the fiddle strings snapped. It had to be the fiftieth time that week. Gene let out a gravelly sigh. “Get the washboard.” Paul teased, taking a small pause. He played again, singing a flowery little tune. His heart beat to the rhythm. Gene peeled himself off the hay stack. It sounded empty without the fiddle.

He crawled down the ladder. Its creaks and bellows ripped through the air. Paul tapped his foot a bit louder. The music scratched the itch in his brain nicely. He closed his eyes. His singing turned to mumbling as he made up lyrics for the song he didn’t remember. The sound filled the barn like an orchestra as he lost his hands to the tune. He moved with the rhythm before-

“Please, there’s got to be something we can do.” Gene’s soft voice fretted.

Paul’s eyes widened. He lowered his dulcimer and crawled over to the ladder. The owner of the place, mister Boyd—James Boyd, to be exact, screamed obscenities. Paul’s lips pinched as a sour face knocked his smile out. He laid the instrument down and crawled down the ladder. Hay drifted down around him like feathers.

Boyd’s shouting boomed louder than a cow mooing in his ear. Paul leaned against a pillar. He frowned a little. Gene was completely still, yet somehow small as he could be. He wiped his mouth. His eyes went dull so fast it hurt. A slight scowl fought its way onto Paul’s face as he eyed Boyd like a hawk. The man was short as a fence post and thin as a twig.

He always wore a tie and a finely pressed white shirt.

“I swear to god, whatever we’ve done, we’ll make it up to you.” Gene’s gaze darted from Paul to Boyd. His eyes turned overly bright and feverish and his movements fast.

Gene’s racing heart slammed in Paul’s ear. “.. Could I ask what’s going on?” Paul’s voice lightened. He sounded more hesitant than anything, yet a little poison hid snug somewhere in there.

“Gladly!” Boyd thundered, staring down his chin at them. “If the two of you don’t pack your bags and get your asses out of here, I’ll have the cops called immediately!”

So much spite drenched his voice it flew out of his mouth. “Can I ask why?” Paul strained to stay polite. Gene stepped back. His gaze clung to the ground.

“You two have done nothing but cause’ a ruckus!” He tossed his hands in front of him, showing off his freshly polished watch made of pure gold.

“Please-”

“Get out.” The man hissed. “I’d better never see either of you again!”

A comeback choked up in Paul. Gene eased his hand on his shoulder. Paul took a deep breath and let it go with it. The two walked out in defeat. The tense air followed them all the way down the path as they left the farm. At least the smell of shit didn’t.

The truck rattled and the road boomed, Paul winced a bit every time they hit a pot hole deep enough to bury a man. Gene laid his head against the dusty window, staring into the night as the washed out woods smeared around them. Paul drove Gene’s pickup truck as fast as the old thing would go, clutching the steering wheel so hard it would snap. Gene closed his eyes.

“That’s another job.” Paul commented gruffly.

“I always thought he liked me.” Gene confessed, completely at a loss.

“Please. I don’t think he likes anyone.” Paul said more snappily than he would’ve liked. “And that leaves us to do what? Degrade ourselves even more? Get a worse job like eating sawdust?”

“Paul. Calm down. I just don’t think he could pay us anymore.”

“Stop trying to justify his behavior.”

“T.. This is a difficult time.. and I have no doubt he’s struggling as well.” Gene said sincerely through a breaking voice.

“He could’ve at least had the good grace to.. I don’t know, talk to us like human beings?” Paul sarcastically sneered, whipping around a corner.

“He’s probably not even thinking about that..”

“Well that’s his fucking problem, isn’t it?”

Gene looked down. Paul furrowed his brows tightly. He breathed so quickly he could start a fire in his lungs. Gene’s eyes widened for a split second. “Paul.. the gas is low.” Gene squeaked. Paul slowed down. His grip loosened.

“Let’s go get gas.”

“Alright.”

[knyafe]

DBD Killers / How they sleep 💖🔪 / Pt. 2

Kenneth Chase, Sally Smithson, Adiris, Amanda Young, Pyramid Head

[Pt 1]

Kenneth:

• He sleeps on his back with his limbs wherever they happen to land that night.

• He snores constantly and moves constantly, too. He grunts and groans in his sleep, his muttering completely unintelligible, and he occasionally laughs like someone told him a real good joke.

• Kenneth's a heavy sleeper- He won't wake up no matter what until he gets at least 8 hours. You could set off a bomb by his head and he wouldn't budge.

• 9 times out of 10, he doesn't remember anything about his dreams. At least, that's what he says - you have a feeling you don't want to know.

• In Kenneth's bed, you can sleep however and wherever you want - he doesn't mind. If you can handle his unpredictable, bull-like chest and stomach movements when he's asleep, he'll gladly hold you close throughout the night. This is the only time he won't shift his arms in his sleep.

• To people who aren't heavy, toss-and-turn sleepers like he is, I wish you luck.

xxx

Sally:

• Sally's one of the more unconventional sleepers - She drapes herself over anything that looks even vaguely comfortable to her when it's time to sleep. One of the many perks of floating.

• When she's not exerting herself, her wheezes are gentler and quieter. She's been t as loud as you may think while sleeping.

• Her hands are almost always tucked under her chin or cheeks; She sleeps on her stomach.

• She's not against sleeping in a bed, it's just that they're not always easy to find in the entity's realm. If you happen to get your hands on one, she'll me more than happy to share it with you.

• Her favorite spot to rest when sharing a bed is on top of you, her head on your chest and your arms around her waist. Her weight barely registers on you since she floats, which makes this position incredibly comfortable in the breathing department.

•Being held tightly is incredibly comforting to her - You're like an anchor keeping her from drifting too far out to sea.

xxx

Adiris:

• Adiris sleeps on her back with her hands clasped just below her bust. She resembles a mummy at times, if not for her arm positioning.

• She is a strangely peaceful sleeper; She's very still and quiet, her serenity mirroring that of a goddess, or a garden at dusk.

• Her chin is up even when she sleeps, the same dignity she radiates while awake present during the night.

• She's afraid of infecting those she loves so she's very reluctant to let her partner sleep in the same space as her. It takes a ton of convincing and reassurance that she won't accidentally throw up all over you while she's unconscious.

• Not wanting you too close to her mouth in case she has a bile-related accident, Adiris prefers that you cling to her side and rest your head on her ribcage instead of bust or clavicles. An arm wrapped around you squeezes your shoulder, while the other squeezes a hand placed on her chest.

• Despite her rot, she smells more like her incense than anything.

xxx

Amanda:

• Mandy sleeps on her side and stomach. Maybe it's from the stress of her day-to-day life, but her hands squeeze and pull the life out of whatever they happen to land on that night, be it sheets, pillows, or hair.

• She's a very messy sleeper, twisting the sheets up along with herself as the night progresses. She also hums to herself and makes other sounds as she sleeps. She does NOT like this.

• It takes her at least two hours to fully wake up - she's not a morning person, and trying to get her out of bed too fast will leave her grumpier than an old cat.

• She's a night owl - she usually sleeps after midnight and wakes up around noon.

• She's too embarrassed to ask for it, but she often craves sleeping in the same bed as her partner, and badly wants to be spooned to sleep. Your presence and body heat help with her nerves.

• The after-sleep cuddles are the best - she'll stay in bed with you all day if she can, refusing to open her eyes as if it'll keep the day from progressing.

xxx

Pyramid Head:

• He doesn't sleep, but there are long periods of time where he goes completely still. Theres nothing for him to do in-between trials, so he just... stops.

• If he did sleep, he would do so sitting down - His helmet unfortunately doesn't give him many options.

• In these times of "rest", his breathing patterns do not flunctuate whatsoever. Deep breath in, deep breath out...

• Despite the fact he can't sleep himself, he enjoys when his partner sleeps in his presence. It gives him a duty - a new, temporary purpose he can dedicate himself to before the next trial. That duty is to keep you safe and comfortable.

• If you so desire, Pyramid Head will allow you to sleep on his lap. He'll stay very still for you while you rest, and hold you against his chest with his big arms. He'll even tuck you under his helmet for safe keeping.

• Expect yourself to smell like rust and blood for the next trial or two.

Thank you for reading!

[unnerving-presence]

Pls consider any of the killers in dbd and a survivor who is running for the exit gates but the killer chasing them cuts them off so they panic and just yell “YOU WANT TO FUCK ME SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID” and shoves them out of their way. Bonus points if the killer has a crush on them but either way <3

I OOVE THIS ?? IM GONNA PUT ALL MY SKRONKLYS IN THIS CUASE I WANT TO

i wonder what i’m gonna title this in my masterlist 😭

gonna include a lot of killers and break my own rule i made bc idc and i like this concept

some suggestive stuff but it’s not nsfw

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

Evan Macmillan:

What the hell? How did you know?

Evan is deadass freaked out at how you said that shit so casually but with so much accuracy. Did you actually know and just wanted to expose him or did you just say that in a last-minute effort to escape? Either way, it worked.

Evan will actually confront you next trial and ask what the fuck that was about. He’ll sound angry, probably because he is, but he’s also quite flustered because he’s practically admitting that you were right about what you said, whether you knew it or not.

Will not talk to you until you willingly go to him yourself because he is now very embarrassed that you know about how he feels about you.

Max Thompson Jr:

Does he actually look stupid? Did you know this whole time and now you’re outing him for the fool he is? Poor Max probably takes this far too literally at first.

Takes him prob 5 whole seconds to realize you were saying that to catch him off guard and now he’s mad at both you and himself. Why has he let his feelings do this to him?

Max doesn’t really have the confidence to confront you about it, so you won’t really know how he actually feels about you. He tends to be pretty distant when it comes to pretty much anybody, so it’s very unlikely he’ll ever come clean with his emotions in the future.

Herman Carter:

How sweet.

While Herman doesn’t get caught off guard by your words, he does chuckle a bit at them. It’s cute, really. Another reason you’re one of his favorites.

He also knows what you said is purely coincidence, so he's not too worried about you knowing how he feels about you. He doubts you'll ever know anyways.

Herman won’t outright flirt with you or make it known to you that he in fact feels that way about you, but you might just notice the way his hand slowly trails down your lower back onto your ass when he gets close to a hook.

Kenneth Chase:

Also not very phased by your words! At least not to the point where he completely stops. If anything, he takes pride in the way he feels about you. He might even outright tell you that it’s true.

He won’t treat you any differently in trials, but expect to occasionally feel eyes on the back of your head when you’re at the campfire with your fellow survivors.

It’s very unlikely you’ll ever make this man stop and think. If you’re hoping to get some of that clown cock then make sure you say something like that again. He’ll give you a reaction, just one you weren’t expecting.

Caleb Quinn:

Caleb actually does get caught off guard as surprising as that sounds. He never expected you to say something like that, especially to him. Caleb has to take a step back and think about what you said.

… Are you into him??

It’s all confusing for him, but while he was thinking about what you said, you had managed to escape, along with your other friends.

You’re funny. Real funny.

Caleb won’t let you escape the next time he sees you. Sure, he might feel a certain way about you that isn’t utter hatred, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to you.

Kind of thinks you feel the same way he does about you. Why else would you say something like that?

[prettycutebunny]

Dbd killers as a Reddit post:



Danny Johnson:

Frank Morrison:

Kazan yamaoka:

Herman carter:

Freddy Krueger:

Kenneth chase:

Sally smithson:

[ideasvoid]

Hello! I was wondering, would be willing to write for The Clown/Jeffrey Hawk? Anything fluffly, really, I rarely come across fluff about him and I'm starving for it. I am in need of soft Clown content. Please and thank you :C

Hello sweetheart, I can absolutely do that for you.

Please be warned I have not written for Jeffery yet, but I will do my best.

Bhvr can rip Maurice from my cold dead hands

The Clown - Kenneth Chase / Jeffery Hawk

The carriage creaked loudly as Kenneth stepped down from its steps, rocking back into place once he stepped off. The clown had a mission of sorts. One that had taken a lot of planing, a lot of questions and partial charades with the nurse, and a many favours owed to an old coot with a gun. Entirely worth it, however.

Kenneth glanced back, a final check to ensure everything was just right, before continuing on his way. Despite his… less than gentlemanly appearance and mannerisms, Kenneth did know a thing or two about romance - sort of. He had been relatively popular in his teenage years, lending to showing him the basics of wooing someone.

Whatever he didn’t learn from then he remembered from movies, books and most recently, whatever he had been able to convey from the raspy breathes of the only person in the realm he knew had actually been married.

Tonight would test his knowledge, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t silently panicking. Was it too much? Was it enough? Would he look like a fool? He already looked like a fool he was dressed like a clown - no, none of that. get it together, Kenneth.

The fog at the boarder of the realm began to shift, curling in and out as the land began to change. The clown straighten his back some, quickly brushing back his mussed hair and silently cursing his balding.

He watched closely as you stepped from the mist, stealing away his breath as you did. You were always stunning in his eyes, and if never failed to surprise him just how you made his heart leap. You smiled at him, stepping forward to take his outstretched hand. “Now will you tell me what you’ve been hiding?”

He smirked, turning to begin guiding you back toward the caravan. “Can’t, wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

The two of you entered the clearing past the burned building, and you gasped. The usual carnival games and tacky attractions had been pushed aside in the corner, lending room for a single table set up in the middle. An old, moth eaten table cloth draped over it with a candle burning in the centre. Strings of lights twinkled above, were it not for the dilapidated and dirty look of everything around you - this would be like a scene from a cheesy movie.

Kenneth watched you take in the sight, silently questioning himself. Did you hate it? You have a snort of a laugh, playfully pushing him. “You’re such a dork!” Oh god, you hated it. You smiled up at him, warmth radiating off you as you took his hand again “this is wonderful, thank you”

oh, alright. He mentally laughed at himself, what had he been so worried about? Psh he still had it.

The clown gave a dramatic bow, waving an arm towards the table in a very over the top display. You laughed again as he led you to your spot, pulling your chair out for you and stumbling slightly to push it back in on the grassy ground. The rusted iron chair creaked as he sat down in it, cussing quietly under his breath. “Where’d you get this idea? ” You asked, your voice light with a playful tone.

“I’ll have ya know, I came up with all this myself. ‘m somewhat of a love expert.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt for comedic effect, pulling small laugh from you. Music to his ears. “Well I look forward to what that expert mind has planned” you smiled propping your head up with a hand.

Kenneth smiled, quite proud of himself. “Nothin’ special, just this.” He closed his eyes, a confident grin on his painted face. You stared at him, glancing around for something to happen or for him to move. After a moment, he opened his eyes, brows knitting together. “I said, just this” silence met the two of you, broken only by a laboured huff from Maurice.

“Caleb! Get your scrawny ass out here!” Jeffery shouted, thumbing his fist on the table. You heard a deep sigh, and from behind the large caravan stepped an older man you recognized. The whispered stories told around the campfire, and horrific memories of glowing eyes. The Deathslinger himself. Gone was his signature duster and hat, traded out for a simple old blue shirt and vest. Pale hair tied back and a scowl firmly placed on his features that told you he really didn’t want to be present.

The bounty hunter - or Caleb, as you’ve now found out - approached, unceremoniously dropping two plates of entity catered mystery food onto the table. “Bone apple whatever tha hell.” He said bitterly, glaring at Jeffery before turning to you and pointing a finger in your direction. “One word o’ this to anyone an’ I make you eat the harpoon.”

Jeffery coughed, fixing the man a look. Caleb turned on his heel. Muttering to himself as he limped away, once he was gone you released the laugh you had been desperately holding in. Kenneth joined you, his familiar harsh laugh filling the clearing.

You smiled, it had been so long since you had been able to enjoy a meal with someone you cared for. Yes you ate at the campfire with the others, but this was something different, something special. This was a date. A real, proper date with someone you loved. Someway, somehow Kenneth had hopped through enough hoops to arrange the closest thing to a romantic date one could get in this hell, and he had done it for you.

You reached across the table, taking his hand into yours and fixed your gaze to his. “Thank you, Kenneth. Really.”

The clown leaned forward, raising your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand. “Anythin’ for you, Doll.”

[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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[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.

[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.