#yandere jed olsen

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! dbd ghostface (danny johnson) headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— yan! ghostface who loooves everything about you <33

[fromduck]

Me with you guys simping over hot men

[slasherboy-brainrot]

Ghostface <3

[g0blintears]

[Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

Eight. Thrilling Tremors

Danny has always loved the horror genre.

Ever since he was a child, his father would tell him real life horror stories. Those stories of a cat chasing a mouse. A predator hunting down prey. It was all the same stories that ended with a field of bloodshed and a victor that would rise above it all…and Danny was absolutely fascinated with each thrilling tale.

Mutilated bodies would engrave itself into his mind. Haunting scenes with vivid details would replay in his head like a broken flickering filmstrip. From the creepy music to the dramatic pauses, Danny would find his heart pounding in his chest with a wide smile curving on his lips as he became enamored with each piece of horror media he consumed.

However, the exhilaration of facing the unknown, the details from the unsettling sounds to the tense atmosphere— none of those things were his favorite part. And for a while, Danny actually wasn���t sure what he loved so much about the genre. He knew he loved true horror. The real stories of monsters that lurk in the night. The real boogeyman that blends into society. He was captivated by true, raw horror. 

So, that begged the question, was he simply just entertained by the reality of human nature? Did he just enjoy seeing how ‘civilized’ people would react to the real demons that ran around with the same blood that they bled? 

Or, did he simply love horror because it fed into his own bloodlust?

When Danny brought his first horror story to life, he knew he had found the answer. Although his first design was sloppy, it was still created with passion that was driven by instinct, and that was when Danny had come to a realization. 

Humans are animals. They are destructive by nature. As intelligent and ‘evolved’ as they may be, Danny knew that all humans have primal instincts, and those instincts were bloody and chaotic. Some may deny it, but Danny knew the truth. And if he was going to accept his human nature as a whole, he may as well be creative with it.

So, Danny went on with his life, loving every second of it. He loved existing as a human. He loved having the ability to create. And most of all, he loved creating real life horror stories. Obviously, his passion is looked down upon. But that doesn’t stop him. If anything, Danny was glad that the playing field was so small. It made it easier for his work to stick out, and it made his stories even scarier.

However, as much as Danny adored bringing terror to the public, he always had to be cautious of his work. His designs needed to be perfect. Any flaw could wind him up in the electric chair. So, even if he loved sharing his stories, Danny would often feel dread when he would have to lay low under the radar. After completing each design, Danny would have to stop his work for a while, and that often gave him an uncomfortable itch that would sometimes leave him wishing he could freely create his stories without feeling the burden of the consequences.

It was simply just wishful thinking during those impatient times, but unknown to Danny, his wishes would be heard.

So, one could only imagine the delight he felt the moment he was wrapped around in a fog, a darkness consuming him until his eyes met the flickering red and orange flame of a campfire where an other-worldly being had suddenly emerged. Stepping in front of him from beyond a black fog, you had gazed down at Danny with empty, soulless [eye color] eyes as you introduced him to a realm of nightmares. 

And Danny was absolutely ecstatic to be there.

Like an artist given his own studio with an endless supply of paints and canvas, Danny was given the opportunity to perfect as many designs as he desired. And so, he would carry on like that in the realm. Danny would create different horror stories for all the survivors on every single map. He even learned to adapt his designs so they would come out flawless! 

It was fun for a while, but then…Danny got bored.

Don’t get him mistaken though. He still loved creating his designs, but he craved for something more. He needed a bigger project. Something that would give him a challenge. Something that would be his Mona Lisa. 

And then, there was you. 

The very first being that Danny had met in the realm. The very first being that Danny knew was on a completely different scale from him. You were something that looked human, but you weren’t. You were something extraordinary. And you were the first being that would become Danny’s new passion project— his muse, if you will.

Thus, leaving Danny to where he is now. 

One of his arms wrapped around your torso, fingers clenched around the fabric of your blazer as he dug into your waist. His other hand was wrapped around your arm and chest, leveling his blade up to your eyes. A smile curved on his lips from behind his mask as he gazed at your reflection in the knife. You were completely unfazed, just as he expected.

“Did I get you this time?” He asked in a hush, observing every feature of your face.

You stared into your own reflection, your eyes moving from your own empty stare before flickering over to the killer behind you. Although you couldn’t see him, Danny could practically feel your eyes bore into him as if he weren’t even wearing a mask to begin with.

“No. I knew you were approaching three minutes ago.” You responded, monotone as ever as you kept your expression stoic.

Danny wasn’t surprised by this, but your response did intrigue him. He had been stalking you earlier, and his interest was piqued when he saw you very subtly reaching out for the flames, so he knew that something was going on in your mind. Just what exactly was it?

Raising a brow, the male tilted his head, “That’s two minutes off from usual.” His voice rasped out. Gripping your torso tighter, Danny brought the blade to your neck and traced the sharp edge over your skin. His eyes focused on your reaction. “What’s on your mind?”

“Is this your question for our game?” You instead inquired, causing Danny to pause in thought.

Right.

Ever since Danny has made you his muse, he took it upon himself to learn everything about you so he could create the perfect design. After all, his first attempt didn’t go exactly as planned… so, he tried a new method— he made it a game between the two of you. He will be merciless in trials, and in exchange, he gets to ask you questions about yourself. 

Obviously, you accepted those terms. And so, he began with the obvious. 

“What is your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Where did you come from?”

“My creator.”

“Who is your creator?”

“The entity.”

“Why did she create you?”

“To serve.”

You were honest, but dry. He wasn’t sure if you were just clever to be wary of him, or if you truly couldn’t comprehend anything other than to follow orders. Regardless, Danny didn’t like that you gave him the obvious answers. You weren’t playing fair. Why should he be merciless in trials for you if you were just going to give him the copy and paste answers that you gave to every other killer and survivor?

So, he had to try something else.

He needed to dig deeper. More personal. He needed just a sliver of space that he could crawl his way into so he could witness just a glimpse into your mind. So far he had been asking all of the practical stuff, and up till now that’s gotten him nowhere since the start of his passion project. Not as if he was in any rush to start his design, of course. Danny is quite a patient man by nature, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting annoyed by how bland you were being with him. 

Looking over your empty stare, Danny took a moment to study you. 

Danny is a people person. So he knew how to read people no matter the poker face, and you were no exception. Memorizing every detail of your features, the man could say with confidence that he could probably draw your face from memory. From the patterns in your irises, to any subtle wrinkle on your face. Danny had learned how to read your face. It was just getting you to change just the smallest detail that was the issue.

He needed you to open up. But how?

With his knife held tightly in his hand, Danny let out low, quiet breaths until finally he made a decision.

“Yeah,” he finally chuckled out, “This is my question for our game. What is on your mind right now?”

You still hadn’t moved, but your eyes did briefly glance over the masked killer once more before setting your stare to the fire in front of you where the flames highlighted your [skin tone] skin in a golden hue. 

“I’ve come to realize that I’ve long forgotten what ‘warmth’ feels like.” You spoke, a sort of interest lined within your words. 

This caught Danny’s attention. 

For as long as he’s studied you, he has not once heard or seen you show any kind of interest other than your assigned tasks. So having witnessed your fingers brushing over the campfire, and hearing the very subtle change in your tone, it hooked him in.

“I didn’t even realize you knew what that felt like.” He spoke, keeping a steady grip on his knife. “I thought you said you couldn’t feel anything.”

You took note of his slight change of demeanor, but you remained impassive as you hummed in response.

“Yes, well, I have felt cold before and I have felt warmth before, but it was a long while back.” You paused for a moment, “perhaps a few eons ago.”

“Oh?” Danny perked up, his blade ever so slightly pressing against your skin. His heart was beating quickly with excitement now that he seemed to finally be getting somewhere with you.

“And what might’ve made you lose your senses?” He asked, and for once in a very long time, Danny’s pupils dilated the moment he saw the faintest flicker of emotion appear in your eyes. 

Those usually vacant pools of [eye color]— they widened a bit. The colors brightened and he could see the crinkle at the very corner of your eyes shift from a misty void to a clear display of loss.

“I’m..unsure.”

Your voice, usually crisp and clear, seemed to have wavered a bit, leaving Danny with his heart pounding against his chest.

There. There it was.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the whole thing, but he swore for the first time that he saw a moment of weakness.

Danny hadn’t meant to do it. But he couldn’t help it. He pressed his knife hard against your skin. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he pressed the blade into your neck and pierce into your flesh.

He could see the blood trickle down your skin. That deep maroon color dribbling down your clear [skin tone] collarbone and staining your white dress shirt. He could practically smell the iron that stained his blade as he continued to press his knife deeper and deeper before twisting the handle and tearing it across your neck, practically decapitating your head from the rest of your body. 

Holding onto your torso tighter, Danny closed his eyes and savored the sounds of the quiet forest air that was filled with music from your choked gurgles.

Except… that wasn’t what happened.

For the moment his knife pressed into your neck, the blade instantly shattered.

Just like his first attempt on your life, any weapon that would try and penetrate your skin would instantly break like glass. 

Danny watched in stupor as shards of his blade fell into little bits and pieces onto the foggy ground. He was still in a daze, but much like his fallen knife, his illusion was shattered and left him standing behind you with his heart racing and mind numb from exhilaration. 

A long and heavy pause would ring in the forest air. Nothing but the sound of fire crackling would be heard as the two of you stood in silence.

While the killer was coming down from his high, you, on the other hand, stood there unconcerned. If anything, you had foreseen this coming from the moment The Ghostface tried to kill you the first time he brought a blade to your chest. You just figured he would try a different strategy since he wasn’t as bloodthirsty and adamant as The Shape. 

With your vision still fixated on the fire, you briefly moved your attention to the shattered blade on the ground before quickly looking back at the fire. Your body was still in the hands of Ghostface, granted his hold on you had loosened up, but you still kept yourself still as you looked over your shoulder to meet the masked killer’s eyes.

“It seems that you’ve accidentally shattered your knife again.” You commented, finally snapping Danny back to reality. 

Letting his arms fall to his side, Danny took a step back. He was pissed. He was so fucking angry that he didn’t get to actually tear into your throat. He didn’t actually get to experience seeing you bleed and die in his arms. 

However, as Danny stood silently behind you, from behind his mask, the man was practically glowing with joy. A smile was on his face as a breathless chuckle left his lips.

He was also very relieved. 

This is why you were his Mona Lisa. This is why he picked you to begin with. He was so glad you were going to be a challenge. If he had actually killed you, Danny was sure he’d make sure your body would rot from where you stood. But no. Danny was smart. There was a reason he chose you instead of one of the other survivors or killers in the realm. 

Letting out an airy laugh, Danny brought a hand to his head and ruffled his black hair from under his hood. 

He knew he made the right decision in choosing you.

While Danny laughed to himself, you simply stood there and observed. 

Humans, they were so odd. 

You know the sound he was making was that of laughter. You may not understand human nature, but you knew enough to realize that he was showing signs of amusement. You just couldn’t understand from what.

Once Danny settled down, the male finally looked over at you with a tilt of his head.

“This is why you’re my muse.” He commented with a sigh, and walked over to your side.

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around his interesting choice of words, but you didn’t get to dwell on it when he brought a hand to your shoulder. With his attention on his knife, Danny tilted his head in your direction.

“Do you mind?”

You blinked, “Mind?”

He smiled, “Fixing my knife. Can you work your magic again, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” Your eyes then flickered back to the blade broken into pieces on the ground at your feet. “Of course.”

Crouching down, you grabbed the handle of the knife and the biggest part of the blade. With your eyes glowing a [eye color] hue, a fog of black with golden particles floated into your hands and covered the broken pieces.

Danny watched in awe as his once shattered blade came back brand new. 

Again, he was practically grinning from ear to ear as he found that he was going to create the perfect design all for you. He was already buzzing with excitement just to see more of you. Whether you had or hadn’t actually expressed something earlier, Danny knew that either way you were already destined to be killed by his hands, and he was going to make sure that your death was going to be flawless.

Standing back up, you presented the knife to the killer, “Here you go.”

Carefully, Danny took the knife and twirled it in his hand. 

“Good as new,” he breathed out while practicing his jabs into the open air. With a smile, Danny pocketed the knife before turning his attention to you. “Thank you. Hope that didn’t take a lot out of you.”

You shook your head, “Not at all. If you need any more repairs to any of your weapons, I am here to assist.”

“Right, right. I’ll remember that,” Danny expressed lamely, before bringing a hand to his pocket. Still having his blood pumping vigorously through his veins, the male was nearly itching to start his trial. So digging into his pocket, Danny brought out three items: a chewed up pen, his old driver’s license, and originally he planned on taking out a shiny broken coin, but after the illusion of killing you, the killer was just driven by his murderous instincts to kill by his own hands.

So instead, the male brought out a bag. Opening up the small coin bag, Danny took a quick peek at the glowing red triangles and brought it over to you. 

“Do you think I can buy an offering?”

Your eyes not once wavered from his mask as you took his bag. With your eyes briefly flickering down to scan the bag, you kept your voice firm upon returning your attention to him, “What would you like?”

Danny’s eyes were feral and bloodshot. His smile was hurting his cheeks as he already began plotting his next few designs. He may not have been able to kill you today, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to create a horror story at all.

So with his head tilting playfully, Danny let out a raspy, shuddered breath. 

“I want a memento mori.”

You nodded. And again, the crawling mist all around the two of you swirled with life. It was comical to Danny. Because while a human skull was formed within your hands, the air around reeked of rotting death.

Breathing in the fog, Danny closed his eyes and relished in the silence of the blowing wind that moved the black mist. If he listened closely, Danny swore that he could hear ghastly whispers move with the rustling forest leaves.

Then, it was silent once more.

Opening his eyes, Danny turned his attention to you. He watched as you stared back into the campfire. With the glow of the fire highlighting your features, Danny took note of your expression.

He couldn’t read you again. You were as emotionless as a doll. Simply standing there with a pretty, flawless mask.

Flickering his attention from your side profile and back down to the skull in your open palms, Danny silently took the skull from your hands and tossed his pen, license, and skull into the campfire where the flames burst with life and shrilled a loud shrieks before returning to crackles. 

As Danny stood next to you at the campfire, the male kept his attention straight at the dancing fire. He wanted to get the trial started as soon as possible, while he was still in a pleasant mood.

[unnamed-blob]

The Ocean Is My...

⇢ Pairing: Mer Ghostface/Meg Thomas

⇢ Length: Multi-chapter

⇢ Chapters: (1- Home) (2 - Grave) (3 - Drug) (4 - Cage)

⇢ Synopsis: The ocean has been Meg's home for as long as she can remember. But the tides have shifted with a new mer appearing, and now Meg has to fight to keep her head above the waves left in his wake.

⇢ A/N: Side-eyes the failed dual update promise. In my defense, it's finals season. How was I supposed to know?

Meg shifted, burying her feet in the sand as she shuffled nervously in place. She grasped the board underneath her arm tighter, clasping it with both hands in a strained grip. Was this the same woman who used to stride on the sand as if she were floating above it? Who used to carry her board slung under an arm as easily as if it weren’t there?

Who could blame her though? 

Meg forced a deep breathe in, holding it as she slowly counted in her head, then released it. Just the way Claudette always coached. 

She forced one foot in front of the other, a step forwards, and then another, gaze glued to the sand. 

Claudette would kill her if she knew what she was doing. So Meg had left the voicemail for Dwight instead. He was never up early, she’d be back by the time he’d be awake enough to listen to it. 

And by then it’d be no issue, because she’d be at home safe and sound. And if she wasn’t.. Then they’d know where to look first. 

Not to mention- Meg glanced up for the umpteenth time to make sure they were still there- it wasn’t as if she was completely alone. Another swimmer was further out, dark hair a stark contrast against the water as they dipped in and out of the water with an ease that made Meg’s chest tighten in jealousy. 

Mers wouldn’t attack a group, not when they typically hunted solitary and could risk being dragged onto shore. The only reason it’d happened last time was because she was stupid enough to be alone. Stupid enough to not even consider the possibility and be caught completely off guard. 

Meg stilled as she realized she’d reached the edge of the ocean, shoving her heart back down as it tried to leap upwards when the waves nudged at her feet. She gripped her board tighter, an old comfort. A reminder of her wondrous memories before, a life saving grace in her time of need. There was no possibility she would’ve been able to escape in her exhausted state without it. 

She had no intentions of surfing again, of peering into the abyss of the ocean and having it stare back. But she was comfortable enough to finally wade in. To let the water reach higher than her midsection. And the redhead would prefer to do so with an old friend. With a shield if necessary, and an aide to cut through the water faster to return her to shore. 

Meg took a final deep breathe, and with all the conviction of a man stepping off the plank, waded in. 

⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡

The water was warm. Meg gripped her board in a death grip, knuckles flushed white, as she let her feet float underneath.

The current had pushed the wooden board further out, but she could still reach the bottom if she straightened. For a moment, she let herself rest her cheek on the board. Feel the sway of the water surround her like a featherlight blanket, the gentle rocking of the board slow her heart from its jackhammering pace.

The water lifted her and Meg felt weightless.

Of course, everything had to go wrong then.

The redhead jolted upwards at the sound of frantic splashing, feet slamming against the sand as she braced herself, twisted her torso for the shore. She threw a desperate glance over her shoulder, ready for fins and sharp teeth, for webbed claws, for tentacles that wrap and wring. 

There was nothing. No Jaws style fin jutting out of the water. No suckers to entangle around her legs and yank her back. 

Meg’s heart slowed from where it’d tried to leap out of her chest. She shoved against the waves to keep wading back to shore. Another splash and she whirled around, holding her breathe as she craned her eyes and ears, scanned the peaceful horizon intently. 

Nothing. Just her.

She turned back, the prickle on the back of her neck shifting to needles jabbing into her spine. The shore was within reach, there was no need to stay any further in the water, she’d achieved what she came here for.

The redhead stilled suddenly, twisting back around to scan the water as an image of the morning flashed in her mind. The figure in the water- her heart thundered, eyes darting to each shift in the water- the dark spot of color against the blue- Meg’s heart crashed like the waves against the rocks as a head lurched above a wave, hands desperately paddling and gasping at water, before they went under again. 

Meg’s body knew the motions before she did. By the time she blinked, she was already crouched on the board, hands slamming against the water to paddle to the deep. She may be a coward, but she wouldn’t let someone drown. 

⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡

The swimmer was further out than she’d expected, likely caught in a riptide and dragged deeper than they could manage. In drowning, panic is always quick to dart in and cloud the mind, give no rational thoughts other than STAY ALIVE and seize control of the body. 

Meg is ever grateful for her board, a floatation device for the swimmer to cling to without dragging her underneath as well. She can only hope a passerby on the shore can notice the situation from a distance, it’s not as if she has the chance to call for help. 

Meg’s faster to the person than she expects, her body on autopilot, limbs finding their familiar rhythm as she pushes them to points she hasn’t touched in weeks. 

She inhales the salty air and forces her mind to clear. There’s already one person panicking, it won’t help if she starts to too.

She can make out more of the swimmer’s features from the closer distance as they shove their head above water again, coughing up mouthfuls of water and grasping in her direction. 

A male, pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes that lock with her’s for a moment.

And then he’s gone.

She curses and lurches forwards, nearly diving off her board as he dips under again, hands splashing above his head. But even that's sinking quickly, and Meg worries if she’ll be able to reach him a moment later, see him in the persistent waves. 

Meg gives a final, powerful propel and dives her arm into the water, gripping her board securely with the opposite. 

She can see him! She grabs for him- to pull him up safely- and her hand drifts past, fingertips skirting his skin.

No!

The redhead slams her eyes shut, inhales, and forces her arm further in, head splashing into the water as she stretches as far as she can reach. She nearly wants to cry in relief when clammy, cold skin meets her palm, grasping onto it immediately and yanking upwards. 

Meg doesn’t release him until she slams his palm onto the board, feels him grip onto it and heave himself up higher. She gasps, heart threatening to give out from its adrenaline fueled dash. 

Her hands shake as she reaches upwards to wipe the water from her eyes, a mix of the nerves and exhaustion finally reeling their heads, her body pushed to limits it hasn’t even considered since the incident. 

A relieved smile peeks at her lips as Meg blinks, drawing her hands away. It’s alright though- it’s all alright! She’d managed! He’s fine and she-

Meg freezes, hands in midair as she stares down at the figure splayed on her board. The mer’s ear fins playfully splayed out as he rests his upper body on her board. 

Her breathes still completely, horror freezing her veins, skin suddenly cold as he reaches upward to grasp each wrist with terrifying claws, easily encircling each one. He pushes himself upwards with the help of his lower limbs, sharp teeth flashing in a wide grin as Meg feels something wrapping around her legs. 

The redhead doesn’t turn, doesn’t need to even glance to know exactly what’s winding up her ankles. 

The mer- the damned octopus mer with dark hair and darker scales and tangling tentacles- pushes himself up higher until he’s level with her. 

He gives a cheeky, excited grin as he chirps, ear flaps fluttering, soulless golden eyes drinking in every detail of her face. Meg doesn’t dare blink. 

He seems to find what he was looking for anyway as he tilts his head and lurches forward -too quick for her to even gasp- face pressed into her neck as tentacles lope around her back. They squeeze her closer to his frame, press her flush against him as a low rumble starts in his chest, a purr that shakes Meg’s bones. 

Meg trembles in place, held fast with his tight grip and ensnaring tentacles, weighed down by her own exhaustion. 

The ocean laps at her knees and nudges at her board like an eager dog, welcoming her home.

A/N: Danny had full intentions to eat Meg at first. But dw! He doesn't anymore :)

[gloomyteddybear]

crazy all-over & for you

oneshot

cw/tw: vague-ass spoilers for twin peaks; creepy fluff; danny's very delulu; some allusion to kidnapping but it does sound more like trapping (staying under coersion/ obligation/ dependency, not necessarily the baby-type); good ol' referenced child abuse (thanks johnson-senior); matricidal ideation (but you kill eachother, idek how to tag this shit)

can be read as a sequel to 'vulture.

when you become a writer or an avid watcher, you begin to take notice of patterns, tropes they're called. repetitions of behavior that makes up a character's personality, you know them at a glance and your immersion is ruined; eventually due to them, your taste begins to change towards the unpredictable. you want something more real, more marking, more scarring, more... if you want it done right, do it yourself.

danny lost his immersion in life. during his many years limping on earth, each life-lesson hammered in the teachings of his father.

teachings-rants that sounded like it described someone, that talked about people, about relationships, about loyalty, about fear, about respect, about trust, --- about consequences for breaking that trust.

'people are... you can't trust people to stay. you gotta tie them down, give them a damn good reason not to leave.' he slurred, his sour breath stank of fermented and stale bread, clutching tiny-him by the shoulder to look'im in the eye. ('just like you give them something to cry about' went unsaid)

if he were to describe his father in movie tropes, it'd be the crazy homeless man who was right all along. sounds harsh, but it's true. raving about the war, being watched, communists, trees and (his phobia of) spiders.

he learned everything from him, he was thoughtful as a father, always preparing him for the worst case scenario so he didn't need to worry too much while making contingencies for unaccounted variables.

a slap against the back of his head (it hurt, always made him cry when he was younger, but kid-him knew he held back) always reminded him to never let anyone sneak up behind, watch his surroundings.

he was his father, who did dad things like making sure his room's not clean (perfectly horizontal pennies), got food on the table (always canned), kept the house clean (the stomach-acid smell of white vinegar) and safe (gun safety, tourniquets, traps)...

gave him... affection (the heavy shoulder pat when danny finally got that deer) and told him bedtime stories, even though he grew too old for them (gunfire, the fading light in their eyes, shells-hock).

sure, danny hid under his blankets like a spider's cocoon and pretended to sleep when he was drunk (suffocating safety), but... he truly tried raising (a soldier) him.

his role in that relationship is stoic, patient and efficient. but you... 

you didn’t know him by his real name– only as meek, weak, jed olsen--- you were... too... (minds eye picturing himself gesturing weakly with his hands to all of you) too you for danny, out of his league. but this man he pretended to be, meek but earnest, maybe he has a shot--- sure his typecasting was off (gaunt, grey, gangly and definitely not giddy) in his role as jed the only thing that salvaged his performance was his acting.

he couldn't reduce to just a love interest... it was... as if you were real. not a character unlike these... figurants--- these extras.

you warranted softness, normalcy, something he learned when comparing his childhood to others- he never had. you wanted a movie date (more like you were appalled that he never watched twin peaks, and wanted to amend that. but a man can dream) and he could never say no to you.

so danny has to make sure jed's house is clean. which includes... removing the evidence and preening himself 'til he looks presentable to his... (not a date, not a date, not a) series-binge-hangout-slash-maybe-comma-hopefully-sleepover.

danny grabs the collage of pictures on his wall and throws them into a shoebox beneath his bed (worst case scenario he'll say it's a sex-toy box, and lose more of his pride in the process) he feels kind of bad, like a parent boxing his kid's toys for a garage sale after they went away for college (not like he'd know what that's like, on neither end), he locks his bedroom for extra precaution.

now onto the... situation at hand... well, the ghostface's killings were described as messy crimes of passion, it's not going to be clean. it's not like he uses that sink to brush his teeth, anyway (it's broken to only use cold-freezing water, it's practically fate). it's not like the sink has visible traces of blood (it dries dark enough to look like usual inescapable grime) but-what-if you wanted to use the restroom and got sick?!

bleach, his father taught him, is just chemical white-out. he bets his father never thought he would use his knowledge of skinning deer for--- well maybe he did. gloves and a mask, disposable. his first bought-instead-of-handed-down sweater still has that pink-salmon-flesh spot.

danny uses mint air freshener this time, still have the same (spider) smell-of-crime warding-off properties of white-vinegar without the gag-inducing smell.

you shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits knock on his door. speak of the devil, but you weren't a devil, and he wished you'd appear as often as he thought of you. you smile at him, a hand holding what he assumes is the tape you brought.

danny keeps a hand on the door and stares as you enter, and closes it for you--- cushioning the doorknob behind him with both hands, he rocks backwards on his heels and plants his weight on the door until there's a 'click'. shoulders pressed against the wood as an anchor. trying to project playful, not predatory.

---him following soon after, he smiles. you smile back waving the tape in your hand. the ecstasy of having your eyes on his, it's a combination deadlier than any drug. he'd kill for one look, he'd die for one glance.

(4 weeks and 5 days of knowing him, you were so trusting its as if you wanted him to---)

"ready to create a conspiracy board? i'll even tell you if you're getting warmer," you smirk, all teasing "but for now, get us the snacks, henchman! don't want you to get spoiled for the plotwist."

jed made a mock "sure thing, boss." with one of those smiles he knew made his employers give him less work and spun on his heel to grab them (wasn't hard to, his pantries are practically for cobwebs). danny splurged a bit from his okay-ish paycheck, is it sad that this is the only indulgent thing he bought (aside from the hobby items) and it wasn't even for himself?

danny arrives, with the colorful packaging in his arms. all your favorites--- a coincidence that he also likes them (you two have so much in common it's like fate).

he sits beside you on the couch and you swing your legs over his lap, using him as a foot-rest when there's a perfectly available coffee table, oh-well. danny's not complaining. but jed does make a half-attempted whine-complain at the treatment.

you keep a close eye on his expressions, as jed plays up some of his reactions, not even paying attention to the show. the knowing smiles you had whenever anyone cried during the show, the dissecting gaze as you watch him just like he watched the show... it looked...his fingers twitched and he dismays at the lack of camera.

then, danny feels the weight on the couch dip and your neck is resting-bending uncomfortably on the arm-rest.

you're sleeping.

he resists to keep watching the series without your supervision (see? he has impulse control), and ejects the tape, keeping a mental-note of the hour-tally (a few episodes subtracted, for more time with you.)

danny stares, you looked so peaceful, untouched by the ghostface's reign of terror. this was where you belonged, in his... under...no, at his mercy.

he reached out a hand and trailed the delicate lines of your neck, he could just crack-snap your neck and get it over with... but it needs to be special, not just one-and-done murder, there has to be a build-up, some meaning for you, because this means so much to him. you have this stabbing grasp on danny and he wants to make sure that the feelings are mutual--- it needs to be mutual, its only good if your hands are also on his vulnerable throat. the only way you'll be allowed to die is by his hands and him, yours.

you both, at the same time. you will become his legacy and he will become yours, your deaths intertwined like veins of the same pulse. that's something to put on the headlines, a romeo of juliet but on-with purpose--- not due to some stupid misunderstanding but a mutual death.

you made your choice when you came here, you had to know what you were getting into, the newbie in town when, coincidentally, the murders began and he just-so-happens to be there to report ghostface's every move--- like a demented slasher-parody of peter parker. because you wouldn't be here if you...

if you... what if you didn't. you were only there because you didn't know. if you did, then you're danny's; if you didn't, then you're jed's.

that can't be. there's a narrative, a storyline, a fate. you were fated to be. you and danny. forever. 

he's had a taste of what it feels to have you in his life, and it feels like---love a-and... it's like you wanted him t-to...  (obsess, desire, envy, bleed).

--- and, and now he just can't let that feeling go. can't let you go, if you're not staying for danny, he'll just... tie you down and give you a damn good reason to stay.

[yanderedbdimagines]

Oh I saw the ask about the lock locker with the reader inside can you do it with the other killers The Doctor The Legion The Ghostface The Trickster of your choice ^^ like they got a chance to kidnap there darling but the entity lock the locker the darling is in to spite/punish them

----------------------

I like writing about this request a bit too much to only chose one of them, so I chose them all. >:D For the Legion I chose Julie Kostenko.

------------------------

WARNING: Mentions of torture! Blood, gore, cussing, etc. Very descriptive.

The Doctor

‘Damn it,’ is all you could think in complete and utter frustration as you found yourself locked within the locker on the main floor of the Huntress’s cabin. Just as you swore that the Doctor’s ran past you, you tried to get out and sneak out the way he just came through from, but the doors just wouldn’t give in. 

What makes the matter worse is that you’re the only one left. Your heart pounds in your chest as you fully realize that you are completely at the mercy of one of the most sadistic killers in the realm.

As if sensing your fear, the Doctor's fluorescent eyes peer down through the slats in the locker's door. You can feel his gaze burning into you, and a shiver runs down your spine. You try to stay quiet, but the static in the air only grows stronger, indicating that he knows that you’re in there. As result, your skin’s being prickled by the crackling air that found its way inside of your little space. It’s highly uncomfortable as a continuous tingling sensation, which borderlines to a humming pain, is affecting nearly every patch of your skin.

Suddenly, the Doctor's twisted laughter fills the air, and you realize that he has been toying with you all along. Your stomach churns with fear and anger at the realization that you have played right into his hands.

You fall back against the wall with a defeated sob before sliding downward, your heart haven jumped up into a frenzy and with your lungs already gasping aloud since of a sudden shortage of air due to an ever larger amount of fear jolting through your veins- aware that he could open the doors at any second.

You’re getting sick and you feel like you’re about to puke all over yourself. You can already imagine various scenarios in which he’s already torturing you to death. Very slowly flaying off your skin and precisely trimming through the flesh underneath in order to pick apart your nerves, nails pulled off before traded in by electrodes, skin around your head skinned wide open for better access to your skull before that’s broken wide open… You’ve involuntarily seen short snippets of the videos in the Lery’s memorial institute during few of the trials you’ve ran so far, haven showed you what he’s capable of.

One other method springs out to you the most; how he’s about to fry your brains out in the most painful way possible. His way of how he prefers to kill nearly each and every survivor. Quick, but very, very painful. The survivors who died this way can only remember that it hurt like hell, but they can’t fully remember how hellish it was after they were resurrected by the Entity shortly after. Obviously, you don’t want to find this out yourself, but it seems like this is about to be your first time.

You proceed to close your eyes and cradle your own body as pure panic consumes you from the inside out… But…

“Oh?~” The killer hums.

You dare to open your eyes again, only to see him turn away from you.

You listen closely to the fading footsteps before slowly standing up as the prickle of the skin disappears along with it. Peering out through the roster, the Doctor is nowhere in sight.

You swallow. He must be trying to give you this false sense of security. For all you know, he may be staring at the locker right now and waiting for the moment where you may end up succeeding to leave the locker.

Decided, you stay put. And just as you started to question if you should make a mad dash for it after all after a few minutes has passed by, something dark twisted and swerved around your body.

From just outside of the room, the Doctor witnessed how the Entity took you, and he could already imagine where to.

He sighs deeply before chuckling to himself.

Herman had hoped for this to be the moment to bring you back to his territory and have you all to himself, but the moment he pulled at the handle of the locker, he already knew that he wasn’t even allowed to. This was confirmed just a few minutes after as he closely watched and waited of what would happen; also yearning for the moment if you did get out just so that he could catch you off guard and kidnap you by force.

Still…

Maybe he’s not allowed to have you right now, but the Doctor will do everything in his power to be allowed to have you in the near future.

The Ghostface

You find yourself huddled in the cramped confines of the red locker, your heart pounding in your chest as you hear Ghostface’s raspy breathing just inches away. You had been separated from one of your teammates during the chase, and had to duck into the nearest hiding spot which you could find after you swore you’d lost him. But now, you��re trapped, with no way out and no one to help you- made evident by an intrusive thought that barged through your mind of how you somehow know that they've left through the gates.

The other survivor just went up and abandoned you.

Ghostface's voice suddenly crackles through the locker's vents, startling you out of your thoughts. "Hey there, little bird," he says in his signature distorted voice. "What are you doing hiding in there? Come out and talk to me."

You stay silent, hoping he'll give up and fuck off. “Shit. Now that’s just rude. Staying quiet like that.” But Ghostface is persistent, and he keeps talking; "You know you can't stay in there forever," he says. "Why not come out? I promise I won't ruffle your feathers too badly."

You can feel the panic rising in your chest as his words sink in. You know that if you stay in the locker too long, the Entity might jump in. But the thought of facing Ghostface, with his razor-sharp knife and twisted mind, is almost too much to bear as well.

As the minutes tick by, Ghostface grows increasingly agitated, his breathing becoming more erratic and his words more desperate. "Fuck! Come on, come on, come on," he mutters under his breath. "Why won't you come out? The clock's ticking, sweetheart."

You grip your head. And for a fleeting second, you start to think it actually may be better to face his blade than to feel a spider's leg puncture through your stomach. The killer senses this, and he tries to speak again- perhaps one last attempt to get you to come out.

A low groan suddenly rattles through the air and interrupts him, a sound similar to that of a sinking ship. Only one source is capable of making such a noise.

A thick black mist begins to seep into the locker, swirling around you in thick tendrils. He suddenly screams in anger, haven seen the occurrence the second he looked down. “NO! Don’t you fucking do this to me!” A loud bang follows- indicating that the killer’s rammed his body against the doors as a desperate attempt to get inside.

You suddenly find yourself back at the campfire not long after, surrounded by the other survivors. Jake is there, looking concerned, as he asks you what happened.

You try to explain what happened in the locker, but your words come out jumbled and incoherent. All you can remember is the feeling of being trapped, the sound of Ghostface's voice, and the overwhelming sense of relief when the mist swept you away.

As the other survivors comfort you, you can't help but wonder what would have happened if you had stayed in the locker a moment longer. Would Ghostface have managed to coax you out, or would the Entity have intervened regardless?

One thing is for certain: the horrors of the Fog are not to be underestimated. Including the unpredictable kind as the Ghostface’s just showed to you.

The Legion(Julie Kostenko)

“I’m not here to kill you.” You hear from the other side of the wooden surface.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself, trying to push away the fear that threatens to consume you. You glance at Julie through the narrow slits in the locker door, trying to read her body language. She seems sincere, but you can't be sure for as long as she’s donning that signature mask of hers. “Listen; I know you’re very scared right now, but I mean it when I say that I don’t want to hurt you.”

She's saying that now because she can't get inside. Still...

You considering Julie's words carefully. It's true that she hasn't harmed you, but that doesn't necessarily mean you can trust her. The Legion is known for their cruelty and unpredictable behavior, after all.

“Please, know that I'm not like the others. I don't enjoy hurting people anymore. I just...I just want to be understood, you know? I mean, have I ever hurt you as of late?"

She’s right. To date, she’s basically the only killer who hasn’t, and there has to be a good reason why the Entity has locked you in here because of that.

But at the same time, this could also be a ruse. After all, it’s a stone-cold fact that she’s a killer, and you simply do not know what it is that she’s trying to pull here. For all you know, she’s been playing around with you all along and simply wants to kill you once you’d set a foot outside- mocking you in one of the most twisted of ways just so that she could tell it in full detail to the other Legion members later on.

"Why should I believe you?" you ask, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

Julie sighs, leaning against the locker from the other side. "I get it. You don't trust me. And I don't blame you. But you have to understand, we're not like the others. We're not just mindless killers. We have a code."

"A code?" you repeat, incredulous.

Julie nods. "Yeah. A code. We stick together. We don't hurt each other. And we don't kill for fun. Only when we have to. Only when the Entity forces us to."

You consider her words, weighing them against everything you've seen in the Fog. The Legion has always seemed different from the other killers. More... human, in a way. But that doesn't mean you're ready to let your guard down just yet. Not for as long as you remember how they killed any other survivor during a trial, especially the way Julie did.

"I appreciate that you're trying to reassure me," you say finally, your voice shaky, but obviously tainted by semi-sarcasm. "But I don't trust you. And I don’t think I’ll ever will."

There's a long moment of silence, and you can hear Julie pacing outside the locker as if she’s morphed into a starving animal. You hold your breath, waiting for what's next.

But suddenly, something cold swiftly crept up your legs, and you hear a surprised gasp, the sound of a knife falling to the ground before distinct clattering of someone repeatedly pulling against the doors infiltrates your sense of sound.

You feel the familiar sensation of being transported away by the Entity's power as everything shortly goes black.

You blink, disoriented, as you find yourself standing at the campfire.

Julie is obviously nowhere in sight, and you can't help but wonder what might have happened if you had trusted her and stepped out of the locker. But for now, all you can do is try to stay alive and hope that you'll eventually make it out of this seemingly never-ending nightmare.

The Trickster

Yun-Jin Lee had told you and the other survivors everything she knew about the Trickster when she was the newest one to arrive in the Fog. A tradition held so that each and every survivor could make plans and mental preparations in case they’d face him for the very first time- making sure the chance would be as low as possible that they’d ever get caught off guard by one of the newest killers.

Yun-Jin had described each of the Trickster's inhumane killings, displaying his unique style of general torture method.

You had listened intently, taking in every word and committing each detail to memory. You didn't want to be caught off guard by the Trickster, not like the way some of the other survivors already had been.

In exchange, all of you filled her in about the other killers roaming the Fog.

Her words replay over and over again as you found yourself shivering underneath the yellow gaze of the killer in question, separated only by the locked doors of the infamous red locker, and all that preparation seemed to be for nothing.

Your breath catches in your throat as he starts to talk to you with a very thick Korean accent coating each and every word; “The things I’d do to have your undivided attention on me like this more often. The things I’d do now to have this moment last forever. The things I’d do for you. The things I’d do to you.” He chuckles dryly. “Sadly, the Entity has already decided that I’m only allowed to have so very little of you.”

He presses his forehead against the roster, his eyes never wavering from yours. It almost reminds you of a kid trying to be as close to their favorite zoo animal for as far as the fence would allow them. A creepy and downright murderous kid…

"Say my name," he demands suddenly, his tone firm and unwavering. “Say it. I know you’re aware of what my name is.”

You freeze, unsure of how to respond. A braggart laugh flees him- clearly crazy and psychotic in content. "Silence? Shame, but I'll find a way to get you to say my name once I've dragged you back to my place. Now that I think of it, when do you plan to get out of there?” He tilts his head as his almond-shaped eyes narrow in feigned amusement. “Soon, I hope?"

You try to push the fear down, but it's overwhelming. You are trapped, with no way out. You pray that the other survivors will come to your rescue, but deep down you know that it is unlikely. The Entity apparently has its own rules, and it wasn't always on your side.

You are quickly proven wrong as a sudden cold encircled your body, shadows soon overtaking most of your vision.

You feel something flutter on top of you the moment the darkness enveloped you in its cold embrace completely. At the campfire, you realized that it was a signed photograph of him that he has slid inside at the last possible second.

You couldn't help but shiver at the memory of the Trickster's twisted charm as you instantly chuck it into the fire. Yun-Jin Lee had warned you about him, but nothing could have prepared you for the sickening thrill that he brought to the Fog.

[playgroundfadings]

Yandere Danny, who needs to control every aspect of your life. But this man barely remembers to eat and drink smh. How do you expect to take care of someone else when you can't even take care of yourself, buddy?

Seriously though, he would work slowly towards making you dependent on him. Your friends don't really like you - see, they didn't invite you to this party. You don't need other people, you just need him.

Why are you in the kitchen, cooking? You can hurt yourself, especially with those big knives. Just let Danny take care of it, wouldn't want you to have an accident, right? (He's definitely not making sure you can't attack him behind his back, noooo.)

If you start doubting him? The manipulation comes out. After all he's done for you, this is how you reward him? How could you. Danny just loves you, he's the only one there for you, and you dare question his affection? You are so ungrateful.

But Danny is so nice, he will forgive you for that misstep. Just don't do it again.

[0xghost-ro]

So I Like, Haven't Been Around For A Hot Minute Lol

But I Am Back🙏

Obviously I Have Changed Since I've Last Been Here, I Still Love Welcome Home, But I'm Branching Out To Slashers/Dead By Daylight! So Please Give Me Your Requests For It! I'm Doing Yandere/Generally Dark Stuff So Go Wild!

[yandereloveraw]

Xanny will occasionally leave you gifts near or inside of your residence. The gifts themselves are things he knows you like, like that jewelry piece you couldn't afford. Each is accompanied by a small note, signed with one of various nicknames: "Your secert admirer, your arcane guardian, your black knight," etc. He will also gift you pepper spray and a tazer if you don't own any, in case something happens when he's not around to protect you.

"I hate the thought of someone hurting you, so here. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Please be safe for me. <3," the note had read.

[yanderes-galore]

hii \(^ヮ^)/ your works are always a treat to read and since dead by daylight is on the list…

may I request some yandere hcs for pre-fog Danny Johnson (the Ghostface guy) with a coworker darling? Like someone with whom he worked at the Roseville Gazette. Maybe they both were often sent together to interview the families of victims? 

oh and btw, good luck with other requests (⁀ᗢ⁀)

Thank you! I've been having fun with them ^^ Hope you enjoy this request too! It's nice to write more pre-fog ones.

Yandere! Danny Johnson with Coworker! Darling

(Pre-Fog/Trial AU)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Murder/Death, Sadism, Teasing, Manipulation, Secret picture taking, Attempted kidnapping, Dubious/Forced relationship.

You most likely know Danny by his alias, Jed Olsen.

He's hopped around towns as to not get caught with his murders.

To you, he's just Jed Olsen, a fellow freelancer just trying to write shocking newspapers.

He's been described as modest and enthusiastic and has experience in many past newspapers.

You met him while working at Roseville Gazette and got along with him well.

You have no suspicions about him, in fact you see him as a friend.

You often share stories and sometimes ask him for help.

To keep a good image he helps you with a smile.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Danny is scoping for new victims for good stories.

He's a stalking and methodical killer in the dark while he's all nice and caring in the day.

By the time the murders start up you and Danny are close.

Soon he even begins to think he's fallen for you.

What a story, yeah?

The secret killer falling for the innocent reporter?

He honestly likes the sound of that.

You could be helping him to publish the stories he creates.

You have no idea but you're his partner in what he does.

What could be even better is if he began dating you as he conducts his work.

However, he isn't going to rush things.

Danny doesn't just stalk the potential victims of his stories, he likes to watch you.

He doesn't want to hurt you, he just likes to slip by where you live (once he finds the address) to check things over.

He likes to see your nightly routines and often takes pictures.

He is sure to remember the layout from your house and often sneaks in while you sleep.

It's a nice rest before he has to go back to work.

The whole time you are oblivious to his obsession and work.

Just like most of this town.

You still greet him with a smile, you still work on papers with him, you even offer to help interview the victim's families.

You have no clue that he's caused all this.

You have no idea he's been watching you too.

That's fine, Danny loves you clueless.

Honestly, he'll be happy if you just pay attention to him during the job.

What happens at night is a secret.

Well, a secret until this town catches onto him.

Once that happens he sadly has to rush things.

He's been making good progress with you and has been watching you at night for quite awhile.

About time he reveals the truth to you, yeah?

Imagine this;

A figure slips through your window ever so quietly.

He doesn't want to kill you, if anything he plans to take you with him as he moves to a new town.

He inches towards your room before entering, hovering over you as you rest.

When you stir you slightly open your eyes.

Only to see a silhouette.

Your eyes then shoot open upon seeing him, the figure in a ghostly cowl giving you a friendly wave.

"Hey there baby, it's me... missed me?"

As you try to run he restrains you in your bed, body sitting on top of you as he grins under the mask.

It's at this point he tells you who he is and his real name.

However, before he can take you away, fog fills the room.

Your scream rings in his ears, it's a pleasant sound to him...

However Danny feels rather upset when he wakes up in a new realm.

Where is he? Did he lose you?

Fortunately, Danny hears your voice and screams echo in the distance...

It's then he gives chase... all to look for his dearest in this newfound game.

[apollodarling-writes]

omg i had a thought about dbd ghostface. mdni !!

cw : yandere themes, perv danny, non-consensual kissing, danny dry humps you, non-consensually nsfw themes, non-consensual picture taking, danny forces an orgasm out of you, slight knife-play, danny calls the reader bunny, afab anatomy but no prns used, danny cuts open readers shirt, implied murder of other survivors,

“thaaats it, bunny. cry f’me.” danny’s eyes lock onto yours as he shifts to grab his polaroid. his breathing becomes labored as he lifts his mask angling the camera to get the both of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. a broad grin stretched across his features, sweat dripping down his temple as he admires you.

“pl—please…. let me go.” you cry.

“let you go? but bunny, don’t you enjoy our time together?” he sneers, trailing the cool blade of his bowie knife along your exposed flesh. his fingers roughly grip your jaw, molding his lips to yours in a feverish display of his obvious affection. his lips trail along your jaw and throat, groaning as you try to squirm away from his onslaught.

danny presses your shoulders down, grinding his half-hard cock into the soft meat of your thigh. he angles his hips in a way that causes a wave of pleasure to wash over you, a grin splitting his cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“y’liked that didn’t you, bunny?” he groans, rutting his hips into you faster, his head dropping to the curve of your throat and pressing open mouthed kisses to your bloodied and sweat-slicked flesh. “just be a good bunny and take it.”

you soon feel a familiar sensation pooling in your tummy, panties unwillingly sticky with arousal, and you couldn’t feel more disgusted with yourself. you feel the tip of his blade slice open your shirt, tracing what you assume to be the letters of his name on your stomach.

“bunny,” danny murmurs, “i’m gonna cum. need y’to cum with me.”

you shake your head, a sob ripping from your throat as he sinks his knife into your thigh. “cum. or i’ll make sure your next match is hell.”

danny brushes his cockhead against your clit in a way that has your back arching and a poorly muffled whine leaving your lips — cumming with the man that has made your new life hell.

“that’s a good bunny, cum f’me.” he growls, his rutting slowly coming to stop. danny watches with interest as tears stream down your cheeks, his tongue darting out to lick them away.

“so pretty.” danny’s eyes soften ever so slightly as he leans down to kiss your lips before throwing you over his shoulder. you find no will to struggle against him — you knew you would be hooked and killed by the entity immediately. that’s just how danny rolled.

to your surprise, danny walks right past every hook he comes across, seemingly searching for something in particular. was he going to let you get hatch? was he really going to let you escape? sure enough, danny drops you right in front of hatch, stealing another kiss as compensation.

“bye bye, little bunny. i look forward to our next trial together.” he waves at you in a way that has you scrambling to exit through the hatch, a frown tugging at his lips as he pulls his mask back down.

[fromduck]

Yandere Slashers x Reader

Summary: In your residential “Halloween Town” you are the mayor to the town of deranged killers. Though a normal person- you think you do a good job of running the town! You also love the residents of Halloween Town, although immoral and straight up evil— they hold a special place in your heart ♥️

(Unedited hehe)

-Chucky and Tiffany are your bffs. Though their relationship is so toxic and you’re often a third wheel to their arguing. Glen and Glenda are pretty ok.

-Danny Johnson “Ghostface” is your ex-bf who has yet to acknowledge your breakup. (This man is down bad please take him back😭) Always invading your privacy as a means to “interview” you as the town’s mayor. Don’t ask him why most of Halloween Town’s newspaper is only talking about how perfect your hair is, how perfect your eyes crinkle when you smile, and why the fuck won’t you take him back please what did I do babygirl we had something special—

-Michael Myers and Jason Voohres are your bodyguards as the mayor of Halloween Town. They also save you from Danny’s harassment (much to his displeasure)

Though Jason is a part time PE teacher and sometimes leaves your side to teach his classes. It’s Michael who you have to beg to leave you alone and to go home when the day is over. You don’t know that he secretly sleeps under your bed

-Hannibal Lecter is your therapist and also the one who convinced you to break up with Danny. Totally not because he wanted you single. Never.

-Thomas Hewitt is the local butcher who shyly pines after you. He really likes you and offers you the best meat slices. Although, you never get to eat it because your bodyguard always confiscate it.

-Vincent Sinclair and Bo Sinclair run the local wax museum. Vincent even made your own wax model! WOW, this is really detailed!! (‘Hey!! why is my model naked while everyone else’s has clothes? 😅’ ‘….’ ‘You’re making wax clothes for mine right? ‘…..’ ‘Right?’ ‘….’)

They’re also scammers and make a profit off of your wax figure

-Freddy Krueger is your political rival who wants to take over Halloween Town. You’ve told the man that he will never take Halloween Town from you and name it “Nightmare Town.”

He also has a personal vendetta against Jason. Something about a fight they had where Freddy had his ass whooped. The man had never let that go.

-And many more residents!!!

Halloween Town may have flaws and maybe it’s not the perfect Town. But goddamnit it’s your town!! And you will rule it to bring prosperity to your residents!

Even if it means they may like you a little too much.

(HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃)

[butterbabyflapjack]

Ｐ Ｈ Ｏ Ｔ Ｏ Ｇ Ｅ Ｎ Ｉ Ｃ (18+)

*ೃ༄ Devilmask Ghostface x fem!reader

[ SUMMARY ]

You have the worst luck, don't you?

You finally meet a kinda witty, kinda clever, kinda handsome guy, and of course he turns out to be a serial murderer with a penchant for fucking with people's heads–especially yours.

From the moment you and Danny first unfortunately met, he can't seem to unwrap his mind from you, no matter how much he tells himself he wants to. You're somehow driving him insane, eating up his thoughts, distracting him...

He's going to have to do something about that.

Maybe have some fun reenacting all those lovely scenarios about you he can't stop envisioning inside his head. 

Wherein you’re a photographer who somehow keeps running into the annoyingly hot journalist, Jed Olsen, whom you'd rather be avoiding. Meanwhile, Danny’s got some plans for you…

✧˖°Danny wears his red devil mask exclusively in this˖°✧

[ TAGS ] explicit sexual content, enemies to lovers, except you still hate him, banter, unwittingly flirting with a serial killer, but it’s not your fault cause he’s obnoxious and annoyingly sexy and somehow charming, degradation, praise, rough sex, mask kink, glove kink, voice kink, yandere, breaking and entering, bondage, stalking, dubcon, noncon, knifeplay, threats of violence, coerced sexual and non-sexual acts, Danny’s in his red devil mask exclusively, horror romance, darkfic, slow burn, graphic depictions of crime scenes, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, au!present day

❣️ read on ao3 ❣️

[akanothere]

So something came to my mind today as I was reading about our dear Ghostface, and since you're the queen of him for me (no joke, love your hcs of him), how do you think he would react to someone saving his life? In the sense of an accident for example or an ashma attack (because he breaths too heavy gooddanm). However, this person was also someone on his radar of stalking. I doubt he would do a 100% and change his mind, but how much it could potencially change his view? Would make this person a better victim for him? Or make him want to stalk them more? Or something else? If the person was not a potencially victim, would make them a target perhaps?

I AM FLATTERED!!! THANK YOU!!!

I think he would definitely change his mind, but it’s not him being fixed, it would just be… some kind of playing with his food and got attached (He can never be fixed and we don’t want him to be fixed😩🥵❤️‍🔥).

He tried to NOT interact with his victims directly while still dropping hints just to mess with their head (see John Michaels). However in this case:

(1) If it’s a target:

He would be fixated on them a lot more. Mixed feelings. Not like he would be grateful (or yandere) but he would feel like have to put down a little pet he found adorable (and miserable). Honestly a psycho like him wouldn’t even care😭 in fact I think he would find it ironic. BAD DANNY SO BAD BAD HAIYAAAAAA SLAP HIM WITH A SLIPPER

(2) If it’s a random person/ colleagues etc:

He would kinda bond with them like a normal person will. Deep down he “thanks but it’s not like I owe you anything and you are dumb you don’t know who you just saved lol”. To act like a normal person he would definitely be friendlier towards them, especially if they work with/ see him on a daily basis. Your friendly neighbourhood friend Jed Olsen🙂‍↕️ I don’t think he would make them a potential victim or it would be very difficult to pretend he’s sad when they died, and well, he wanted lesser evidence to trace it back to him. “It was my fault I was close to them and as a journalist who writes shit about Ghostface he took a revenge on my friends😭” this excuse is kinda meh when he’s always perfectly fine himself… unless he’s planning to skip town a day or two later… then… maybe he would go nuts…

(3) If we are 200% delulu about him:

He fucked them 24/7🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️👏👏👏

Thank you for the ask!!!

[unnamed-blob]

The Ocean Is My...

⇢ Pairing: Mer Ghostface/Meg Thomas

⇢ Length: Multi-chapter

⇢ Chapters: (1- Home) (2 - Grave) (3 - Drug) (4)

⇢ Synopsis: The ocean has been Meg's home for as long as she can remember. But the tides have shifted with a new mer appearing, and now Meg has to fight to keep her head above the waves left in his wake.

⇢ A/N: Warning for near drowning. This got much darker than I intended. (I can't even decide if its on par with "One way or another" or worse. You can be the judge of that). Danny grabbed the script right out of my hands and tore it to shreds. Jerk

Swirling bubbles filled her vision no matter how Meg twisted and turned, billowing her in each direction. She was certain she wouldn’t know up or down if there wasn’t a firm presence attached to her wrist and ankle, dragging her swiftly through the water. 

Meg forced her eyes open when the barrage of bubbles stopped tickling at her cheeks, retinas burning from the onslaught of salty water. She blinked, half grateful the air from her lungs was gone already or she would’ve lost it then. 

She wasn’t certain what she was staring at at first. A pale face stared up at her, black hair billowing in the water, framing the angular face. A human nose, a slight stubble. 

Perhaps the grim reaper, was her first thought. Perhaps he had come in a form she could comprehend, to make her passing easier. 

But the scales were an unexpected addition, and the slitted, golden eyes that honed in on her. And the burning in her chest, the need to breathe too present for an afterlife. 

Her gaze darted to the black seaweed- an appendage- holding her limbs hostage, suckers lining the soft, light grey inside. She followed the tentacle to where it connected underneath a human torso, a mass of swirling lumps in the water, curling over themselves but not tangling. 

The scene clicked into place and Meg jerked her gaze back to his face as he grinned at her, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth. 

A mer. An octopus mer. 

The swimmer jerked instinctively, but the tentacle squeezed tighter, yanking her closer. Meg ignored the blaring warning, grabbing at the slippery appendage as the mer gave a low, threatening hiss, the fins on the side of his head fanning out from his hair. A low rattle rumbled from his chest, vibrating the water and shaking Meg’s bones. 

Another tentacle easily swiped from the mass to entangle around her opposing arm, yanking it to the side and out of the way. The others curled closer in tandem, curling around her legs, halting her helpless kicking. 

Meg scrabbled at the dark masses, blunt nails uselessly sliding off of the skin. She jerked, panicked, as the limbs easily crawled up her limbs, the mer coiling tightly around her. She yanked her head back, finding his face hovering over her with a petrified gaze. 

Dark, slitted eyes blinked back at her, before the edges of his mouth pulled back into a grinning, jagged smile, eyes twinkling coldly. 

Meg’s heart thundered in her chest, lungs squeezing painfully with the hopeless need to breathe. She flailed more desperately now, the edges of her vision pressing into darkness, reminding her she was on borrowed time that was slipping fast.

He stared down at her impassively, waiting patiently for his prey to drown. 

The ocean may be Meg’s home, but this was his territory. 

The redhead made an aborted motion to grasp at her throat, the pressure building behind her eyes, pressing against her skull. Surely this was past the capabilities of the human body- it felt like her chest would explode. Like her body was simultaneously trying to cave in on itself and explode outward. 

Meg tried to jerk her limbs free, desperately, helplessly. She could see the light filtering from above, the sweet croon of breathable air hovering several feet above her. But the tentacles kept her firmly in place, unrelenting as the mer tilted his head at her, practically disinterested with his captive’s weak struggles. 

The redhead drooped as the fight began to leave her body, blinks slowing and limbs slackening. Her vision wavered with a pinprick of light, swallowed by the creeping darkness. Her head fell listlessly forwards, body suddenly limp, held only afloat by the encircling tentacles. 

The water stilled, as if it were holding its breathe at the sight. The mer blinked curiously at her prone form. A questioning chirp vibrated softly in the space around them, fins batting at the water as the mer watched her intently. 

Nothing, not a twitch of a finger or an eyelid. Not a fight left in her. 

The octopus mer’s tentacles began to slowly untangle from his prey as he drifted closer to peer at her still face. At the dark red strands flowing in the water and the peaceful expression, panic now wiped from her face when she’d been desperately struggling. 

Pity, he crooned lowly in his chest, she’d been quite cu-

A palm slammed into his sensitive nose, blood staining the waters as he lurched backwards with a pained screech, claws pressing over his face. His tentacles lashed wildly, half in defense against another attack, half trying to ensnare the enemy, groping blindly in the water. 

The redheaded swimmer propelled herself upwards, feet kicking in a frenzy as she narrowly avoided a tentacle swiping underneath her. Arms paddling desperately for the surface, reaching up- up- up-

Meg broke the surface with a gasp, coughing and sputtering as the salty water burned her throat, lungs protesting to the delay of oxygen. She greedily sucked in mouthfuls of air around panicked gasps, jerking her head in every direction.

There! Her surfboard, encased in swirling patterns of blue and green, flashed its eye catching hues at the edge of her vision, floating innocently nearby. Meg lunged for it, panic fueling her every motion, desperately jerking her head in every direction as she warily watched the waters. 

Stillness, guarding the horrors underneath. 

Meg didn't waste a moment longer, didn’t look as she turned for the shore and threw her arms into paddling. Not a thought past the desperation, past the burning in her chest and shoulders and whole body. Past the visions of tentacles lurching for her, forcing her to slam her hands with more vigor. The fear that a single glance would allow them to catch up, to ensnare around her once more. 

Faster, she urged herself, pulling herself lower, faster, faster, FASTER-

The relief crashed into Meg like a tsunami as she slammed onto the sand, fighting the pull of the water as she lurched out. Her knees shook, weak and crumbling underneath her shaking form as they crashed onto the sand. 

Small grains pressed uncomfortably into her skin as she crawled, halting only when her arms followed suit, sending her slamming sideways into the hot sand. She collapsed in a heap of trembling limbs, unable to make more than a breathless wheeze, akin to a dying animal. 

Meg lay on the sand, panting for breathe as her body ached and screamed, the waves singing their familiar tune- now squeezing her heart in terror at each crash against the sand. At the mental image of claws digging into the sand, dragging her back- 

Her eyes fluttered and the darkness crashed over her vision as her body fell limp.