#brad dourif x reader

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @salemwitch96

Warnings: talk of murder, smoking, bloody knife

Chucky lounged on the couch, all too pleased with himself. I paced in front of him, trying to keep my hands away from my hair. Every time I was about to, I saw the blood on my hands and shuddered.

“chucky what are we going to do?” I whined, turning towards him. He raised an eyebrow at me as he blew smoke away from me. “Come on chucky! We killed Tiffany!” Chuckling, chucky leaned forward and waved his finger between us.

“we don’t kill anyone.” He emphasized. “You killed Tiffany.” Leaning forward, I pointed at his face.

“the blood on your face says different Charles.” I groaned. Flopping down on the couch, chucky reached over and put his hand on my thigh. “What do we do?” He rubbed circles with his thumb.

“first things first we clean up.” He helped me up and led me towards the bathroom. “Here.” Chucky gently rinsed my hands before grabbing the soap. I watched him in the mirror as he scrubbed them, making sure to get all the blood off. “What are you staring at?” He teased, looking up briefly to catch me staring at him.

“You’ve never been this…” I trailed off, nervous about what he’d say if I actually finished the thought. Chucky laughed and squeezed my soapy hands.

“sweet?” He finished. “Is that the word you were just going to use?” I blushed and nodded. He hummed as he finished washing up my hands. Grabbing the towel under the sink, he dried them off. “You’re in shock. And we don’t have as much time as I would like.” Chucky said softly. “Besides, it’s your first kill. It can be a lot. I’m both proud of you and I’m a little pissed about it.” I tensed slightly. “Not at you. She shouldn’t have gotten in the way. That’s on her. Tiffany was always a dumbass bitch. It was a matter of time. Either I was going to do it or some other poor asshole who she found herself entangled with.” Chucky turned away to run the towel under water before cleaning the blood off his face.

“so what do we do now?” I asked, starting to shake. I wrapped my arms around my waist and tried to hold myself together. Chucky noticed and came over to hug me.

“we get rid of the knife.” He whispered. “But after you calm down a bit.” Kissing my cheek, chucky swayed with me.

“you’re being too nice. It’s unnerving.” I mused, leaning into him a little. Chucky snorted and held me tighter.

“more unnerving than what you just did?” He teased. I shook my head. “Then just accept it. It happens occasionally.” I laughed and turned in his embrace to hug him back. “Feeling better?”

“Slightly.” I answered. Chucky kissed my forehead.

“I’ll take care of the knife. Get ready for bed. I’ll be back soon.” He gently pushed me towards our room.

“where are you going?” I asked as I pulled one of his shirts out of the dresser.

“the lake. No one would find it there.” Kissing me gently, he grabbed the knife off the counter. “I’ll clean that up later. Just get some rest. Won’t take me long.” I nodded and curled up under the covers.

“ok. Chucky?” I called softly. He turned towards me.

“yeah?” I blushed slightly at the look he was giving me.

“love you.” I whispered. He smiled softly and nodded.

“yeah.” Shaking his head, he turned to leave. “Love you too doll face.”

[arosebyanyother-name]

Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 7

4643 words

This fic is mostly smut, so you’ve been warned. It also contains choking and restraints. I hope you enjoy! (+ sorry it took so long to write)

Also cw for a slightly implied miscarriage. Please take care of yourselves!

gif credit @godzillawillsaveus

You’re lying on the bed you and the doc share, your head comfortably resting on two downing pillows, and your wrists bound to the intricately carved bed head by your own stockings. The doc had tied you there an hour ago, right after you both finished dinner, in fact you were both in such a rush to get into bed that your dirty dishes and pot of food are left abandoned in your kitchen. Clean up can surely be left for later, you both think. There are much more pressing matters to be dealt with.

So, for the past hour the doc has been ‘playing’ with you. He enjoys being a tease, and likes to work on you slowly whenever he can stand it. You squirm, pulling your silky restraints tighter around your wrists as your back arches, as if against your own will. A debauched moan escapes your mouth, one of many, as the doc fucks you tantalisingly slowly with two fingers of his right hand, choking your neck with his left. Being choked is a feeling you very much enjoy, and he knows it. Amos intermittently releases your now tender neck from his grip, allowing you to catch your breath, and for your pooling blood to reach your brain once again. He chokes you until your ears ring, but never too hard, and never for too long. His medical training has made him the perfect breath play partner. Choking was not something he’d tried before he met you, but your enthusiasm for it makes him like it just as much as you do. His ability to give you orgasm after orgasm is more addictive to him than any drug in his possession.

So, he releases you neck once again, leaving you panting between moans. He holds eye contact with you constantly, surveying your reaction, ensuring you’re alright, that you can take what he’s giving you. He takes his role as love maker and pleasure giver just as seriously as he takes his role as doctor. His fingers curl up inside you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your moans becoming louder.

“Please, fuck me Amos... fuck me with your cock!” you beg, still panting, and although your eyes are closed you can still feel the docs eyes on you. The way he watches you turns you on to no end. 

“Uh uh,” he denies you. “Not yet honey, not just yet,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you, and inspects your egg-whitey wetness on them before he enters you again with three. 

“Oh god!” you cry out, your eyes flying open. His face is so close to yours, and he’s red and sweating. You let your eyes wander down his body, pulling at your restraints to try to get a clearer look at his unclothed cock. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, a loud sigh exiting your lips. He’s hard as a goddamn rock, and the precum escaping him tells you he’s more than ready for you. The restraint he must have to keep himself from fucking you senseless is absolutely unfathomable to you.  You want his cum... no, you need it.

“Careful, you’ll break the skin,” he comments, gesturing to your lip. You release your lip from your tooth’s grip just as he takes your neck back into his grip once again, squeezing good and hard. Your legs rise and wrap around his hips as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, entering you as deep as he can.

“God. I can feel your cervix,” he comments breathlessly. He’s concentrating hard, eyebrows furrowed, and although to some his words may sound oddly medical, you know how much it turns him on to enter you as deep as he can possibly go. He’s been edging his fingers higher and higher since he first entered you an hour ago. 

The pleasure is becoming too much for you. You’ve thought that same thought so many times during this lovemaking session, thought that ecstasy would finally take over your body, leaving you trembling and sopping wet, and your husband wholly unsatisfied. Sure, you can take multiple climaxes in a row like a champ, but you know how much Amos loves the feeling of your pulsing cunt squeezing around his cock after being teased by him for so long. You need him to cum inside of you, and you know that stimulation or no stimulation, if you cum whilst his cock is outside of you he’ll cum anyway. 

“Please Amos! God, doctor please! I need your cock! I need it! I need i-“ and before you can say another word his hand is removed from your neck, his juice drenched fingers are in his mouth, and he’s readying his cock to enter you. Teasing your clit first, he lets out a soft low grunt as precum spills onto your vulva. Not much, just a few drops, but it’s enough to wet your appetite. 

“Are you... you ready for me?” he asks, slightly apprehensively. Despite his facade of confidence, and despite your unyielding begging, he’s still slightly unsure of himself. He’s often like this, both in and out of the bedroom. You think it might be a symptom of his time serving as a doctor in the war. He has told you of his time there, vaguely, and often in abstractions, but you understand. More than once during the war he had to make decisions regarding his patients health that ended up killing them, not saving them. Of course you could see that he had never been at fault; he had done the best he could, he had followed his Hippocratic oath to the best of his ability, and between the shooting and the noise and the blood... well no man could have done any better than your husband, not matter his training, but he still blamed himself, and as a result second guessed himself still. He’s a stickler for consent. 

You nod in response to his question, giving him your last gesture of consent before he enters you, slow but firm, and intentional. He rests his forehead against yours, both of your eyes closing as you savour the feeling you’ve both been craving all day... and suddenly you hear a voice cry out, a mans, Johnny’s in fact.

“Don’t answer,” you find yourself whispering to the doc. It was certainly not an ethical request, but you truly feel that you’re more desperate for a fucking climax than any man could possibly be for medical attention. Johnny calls out for the doc once more.

“Goddammit!” the doc exclaims, opening his eyes again. “What?” he yells out to Johnny, awaiting his answer. The doc pulls out of you slowly, beginning to untie your wrists when he hears your disappointed sigh. 

“Someone’s been shot at the Gem, one of the whores!” Johnny replies.

“I won’t be long,” your husband whispers to you, running his ringers lovingly through your hair before he gets up from the bed and begins to dress. You rub your sore wrists as you sit up (it’s a feeling you somewhat enjoy), and the doc gets up. He begins to dress frantically, huffing in anger the way he usually does. You find it awful endearing.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you at the Gem in case you need a hand,” you tell him, fastening his shirt buttons. He tries his hardest to position his cock in a way that will hide his erection in his pants, and is mildly successful, however to you it’s still slightly obvious. As he takes his hat in hand you kiss him on the cheek. “Be safe,” you say. You know your husband always does his best to be safe,  I mean he knows how to mind his own goddamn fucking business, but your request to him serves as a little reminder of what’s waiting for him at home as he goes about his stressful and often dangerous business. He nods in reply, and thinks that tonight he will be extra careful... he knows what’s waiting for him.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he promises, furrowing his brows as he grabs his medical bag and heads out the door, leaving you alone in your house once again. This, you think, is an exemplary example of what it’s like to be a doctors wife, but somehow Amos always makes every moment you spend alone seem worth it. 

You can hear Johnny and the doc talking softly as they walk down the thoroughfare towards the Gem, and you begin to dress. You don your corset, then your dress, no bloomers or stockings. You want to give Amos easy access. You put on your boots, purposefully leaving the left untied, and fix your hair before grabbing your cane and a shawl. You head out of your house only to see Charlie waiting for you, leaned up against a tree across from your home.

“Did Amos put you up to this?” you ask him as you walk towards him. He takes your shawl from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders snugly. 

“He ran into me, asked me to escort you over to the Gem,” Charlie replies. As always, he’s a complete gentleman, and takes your free arm in his as you begin to walk. Not having the most affectionate father figure growing up (to put it lightly), you imagine having a loving father might be something like your friendship with Charlie. He’s loyal to a fault, caring, protective. You love the man, and you hope he knows it. 

“Why don’t you come over for breakfast tomorrow Charlie? Or dinner? Or both!” you ask him with a smile. “You know our door is always open.”

“I might just do that (Y/N),” he tells you, smiling back. You reach the door to the Gem, and now in better lighting than in the dimly lit thoroughfare, Charlie’s eyes zero in on your neck. “I hesitate to ask... did someone hurt you? Did Doc Coc-“ Charlie begins to speak, but you stop him, talking over him.

“I’m going to confide something in you Charlie, as a friend, in the hope of putting your mind at ease,” you pause for a moment taking a deep breath, your eyes falling to your feet. “I enjoy when the doc chokes me. I-I know it may sound strange to you but in the throws of passionate lovemaking my body finds it very agreeable, and god only knows why I enjoy it, with all the men who have choked me out in my lifetime, without my consent. Now, you know the doc could never hurt me, he could never hurt anyone for gods sake,” you look up to your friend, your cheeks reddening when you see him looking to you with shock every so subtly written on his face. This is a conversation neither of you are particularly comfortable having with one another. “So please don’t worry yourself over me Charlie. Please don’t. Now, I’d better find the doc. He may need my help,” your take his  hands in yours, letting your cane hang off your left wrist. Lucky for you the lace on the end of the sleeves of your dress cover the marks on your wrists, for you’d hesitate even more to explain your proclivity for being bound, or how much you enjoy having all control and autonomy stripped from you. “Thank you for being my escort, and I hope I’ll see you tomorrow, even after my little confession,” you say with a shy smile and a nervous laugh. Charlie nods his head, an intense look of understanding on his face. He knows better than to pry any further, and he gives your hands a firm and affectionate squeeze before letting them go. 

“Goodnight (Y/N),” he says, gentlemanly as always, and tips his hat before leaving you in the doorway of the Gem, a building you’d spent more time in than you ever imagined you would.

Walking in now you make a bee line to the whores recreation room, past the bar. You pause once you get to the hallway, spotting your husband attending to one of the whores in the closest room to your right. She’s alive, thank god, and getting her wound closed by the doc. You love watching him work, and in a strange way his care and concentration turns you on, wetting your cunt all over again. As much as you want his concentration to continue, you can’t shake the thought of doing something slightly provocative, of catching his attention despite the chaos of the saloon. There’s a wooden bench where you’re standing, just as you had planned. It’s now time to enact your rather devious idea. You lift your left leg, letting your foot rest on it languidly, and lean your cane up against the wall. Reaching down you begin to move your flowing skirt from between your legs, lifting it up to give you better access to your boots, and revealing your unclothed cunt. Lucky for you there are no Johns in the hallway, otherwise god only knows how many men would have gotten a glimpse of your snatch, for free no less! You clear your throat, finally drawing the docs attention to you. He looks up over his glasses, then moves them up with the back of his left hand, needle in his right. He lets out a flustered cough, face turning red. This reaction may have been a remnant of his sickness from consumption, which thank the lord he was able to overcome, but you’re almost sure it isn’t. Your husband can’t take his eyes off of you, and he squirms in place a little, trying to make his painful and straining erection more comfortable no doubt.  Lucky for the two of you that the poor whore, Sara you’re almost sure her name is, is in too much pain to notice the doc has even stopped attending to her, let alone notice the bulge in his pants. You finally tie the laces of your boot and pull your skirt back down again, just in time for Al to come between the two of you. Amos clears his throat, turning his attention back to the injured whore. He takes a moment to compose himself before tying off his suturing thread.

“You come here to help the doc or are you just looking for new employment?” Al asks, taking no time to start shit stirring you. You take your leg down from the bench, getting your balance again with a little help from your cane. 

“The doc seems to be handling the situation well on his own, so I guess you’d better find me a few eager men to fuck,” you reply playfully. The doc, in his transparentness, can’t help but look to you when he hears you say the word ‘fuck’.

“I can think of someone,” Al comments, looking in on the doc. You hit Al’s arm, only half playfully.

“Watch it mister,” you warn. “So what happened to the guy who shot her?”

“You don’t want to know,” he tells you, looking over to the bloodstain on his hardwood floor. Your breath hitches slightly. Despite knowing the reality of Al, and this town, and all the goddamn wrongdoing people in it, murder sometimes still shocks you. You keep your eyes on the blood, almost captivated by its morbidity as you begin to speak again.

“Make sure you let Amos look at the man before you feed him to the pigs,” you say absentmindedly. You’re brought out of your stupor by Amos entering the hallway, medical bag in hand. “How is she?” you ask him, almost in a whisper. She’s lying down now, passed out.

“Just a flesh wound, she’ll survive,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. They beam with love and adoration for you.

“Good,” you say, breath hitching. In moments like this you truly believe that his gaze, and his gaze alone, could make you climax. The pulling in your stomach is becoming unbearable now. You’re barely able to stop yourself from touching yourself, right there for all the towns men to see.

Al begins to speak again, a slightly annoyed and teasing shit eating grin on his face at the sight of your obvious romanticism. 

“Would you two like to accompany me to my office?” his voice is sarcastically inviting.

“We can’t tonight Al. Another time-“ your husband begins to make excuses, which you thank god for, but Al is adamant. 

“Tonight. Now,” he states firmly. “I need to talk to the fucking both of you.”

So the two of you concede with a disappointed sigh, and Al makes his way up the stairs in front of you, the doc walking next to you, a supportive hand on your lower back. As you ascend the doc lets his hand stray lower and lower, earning an amused warning look from you. Once in Al’s office the three of you sit, but you can hardly sit still, and the doc is fidgeting a little too.

“Drink?” Al asks. “If anyone needs it it’s the two of you.” “Will you just get on with the goddamn business Al?” Amos demands, rocking in his seat, hands rubbing his knees. You place a hand on his thigh in an effort to placate him, but it only makes his cock twitch. 

“Jesus Christ! I’ve never seen you two so fucking antsy,” Al comments as he pours the drinks. As you both down your shots Johnny bursts into the room. 

“Tolliver’s just walked through the door Al. Looks mad as all hell,” he relays, urgency evident. 

“Alright then. Fucking stay here and wait for me, and don’t think of thieving. I know what’s in this room.”

You roll your eyes at Al’s tired fucking joke, and he walks out, closing the door behind him. Turning to your husband now, you see such urgency in his eyes. He’s bouncing his leg up and down, and eyeing you like an animal. You know what’s about to come, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You stand, and suddenly the doc is pushed up behind you. He bends you over Al’s desk, and begins to fiddle with his belt eagerly as you rush to pull up your skirt, letting the plumes of fabric gather around your waist.

“I’m ‘onna fuck you (Y/N), okay?” he asks, now with his bare cock readying itself at your entrance. You’re absolutely sopping, dripping, and he half thinks he may not be able to wait for your reply. 

Even through your daze of arousal it still amazes you how commanding and unsure he can sound in one breath. A walking paradox, your husband could sometimes be, and any man would find it evident how much you need to be fucked... nevertheless you reply.

“Amos, please. I need you! I need you! I need,” and he enters you, eliciting a relieved and pronounced moan from your lips. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he begins to thrust. Neither of you are going to last long, but with the two of you fucking in Al’s office and all that’s probably for the best. The doc moves your hair to one side and leans over you, laying lustful kisses on the back on your neck, and you push your ass further back into him, trying to get him to penetrate you deeper. The doc takes the hint, and bottoms out inside of you. He hits your cervix and exhales deeply, pausing there for a moment, savouring the sensation. He loves to fill you. 

“God Amos! Don’t stop don’t fucking stop!” you yell, sounding almost angry in your desperation. Your husband hushes you and starts up again, giving your bare ass an affectionate tap. He holds onto your hips firmly as he fucks himself into you, good and fast. You know that people in the saloon must be able to hear your screams and moans, and you’re just hoping that with all the other sounds of debauchery coming from all the other rooms no one will be able to say for certain it was you and the doc making those noises. Amos begins to grunt breathlessly, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Honey... honey, god! Fuck!” he exclaims, and you can feel from his rhythm that he’s just about ready to burst. “I’m ‘onna cum in you, I’m ‘onna cum so deep!”

“Oh god Amos!” you yell his name before you can even stop yourself. Your climax is approaching quickly now, and his thrust are becoming erratic. He’s losing control of himself, fucking you as hard as his body physically can after a long day. The way he fucks you is goddamn euphoric. So deep, so skilled, with such care for you. His stomach is pushed up against your back now as he tries desperately to stay upright whilst his climax plummets towards him.

“Gonna cum... gonna cum in you, gonna cum,” he whispers to you in that rough gravely voice of his that you find so arousing. He puts his arm underneath your right shoulder and grips onto it, his left hand grasping onto your waist, and within seconds he explodes into you, plumes of steaming potent cum entering your pulsing cunt. This sensation, coupled with your husbands irresistible moans, and his desperate moans of your name, sends you climaxing. You scream out, trying to grip onto anything you can, your hand landing on the docs hand on your shoulder. Your body shudders, every part of you shaking, and your walls clenching around your husbands cock, milking all of his cum from him. Your ears begin to ring and your sight darkens. For a moment you truly believe that coming this hard is going to make you pass out. He fills you, god he fills you so fucking good. The doc begins to kiss the back of your neck again, leaving little red marks where he bites and sucks on it. Between kisses he begins to speak again. “You like feeling my cum in you, don’t you?”

“I love it,” you reply breathlessly whilst he’s still speaking. “I goddamn love it, I love it. I love you.” 

Your body begins to relax now, and your legs turn to jelly. The doc slowly pulls out of you, standing up straight as he does, and you almost fall to the floor, but he catches you, lowering you down carefully onto your chair. When you turn to him, and sitting in his chair now, you notice that his glasses have fogged up. You’re both sweaty and red in the face, panting feverishly. The doc takes his glasses off, then points to your chest with an amused smile on his face. You look down, noticing that both your tits are now situated outside of your dress. You laugh lightly, looking to your husband in sweet euphoric adoration as you begin to tuck them back into the bust of your dress.

Suddenly Al walks back in, swinging the door to his office open. You jump, and fix yourself quickly, but you realise hiding your sinful deed is futile once you begin to look around the room. Al’s desk has been pushed back, and is crooked, and his whiskey bottle has toppled over and is rolling around on his desk (no whiskey spilt though, thank god). You look from the desk to Al, then to your husband. 

“Jesus Christ!” Al says in a sing song voice. He’s beyond amused.

“Shut the fuck up Al,” you say deadpan, your voice slightly horse. You clear your throat, and the doc tries to smooth your ‘just been fucked’ hair a little. Al begins to fix his desk up, moving it to its previous position. This is a grace he has decided to afford you (most others he would make fix the room up themselves), because despite your teasing and shit talking you are good friends, and he is friends with your husband also. He pours all three of you another shot, which you all drink, and within moments it’s back to business.

“You need to stop visiting my whores,” he tells you, and your mouth opens, shocked.

“Sorry?” you ask obstinately. 

“When the doc comes for his weekly visit stop fucking accompanying him. You’re filling their minds with stories of ancient societies run by fucking women and ideas to leave my fucking employ,” he explains further.

“I’m trying to enrich their lives Al. All they do is fuck and get high on dope! They know nothing of the outside world! I can’t see why it’s such a bad thing to educate them a little on arts and culture.”

“That’s my girl,” the doc chimes in, winking at you. 

“Oh so you agree with her doc? I’d remind you that without my whores you’d be out of a job.” “And have any of them left Al?” Amos points out. Besides Trixie none of them have, and her leaving  was a turn of events you had no part in. 

“With the girls living conditions to boot I would have thought my accompanying the doc would be a welcome change. Surely high spirited women fuck better Al... that has certainly been my experience. Until the end of goddamn time there will always be women willing to fuck for money. It’s called the oldest profession for a goddamn reason. They like me Al, and they like the stories I tell them! I’m not gonna stop accompanying my husband to his weekly visits, and that’s fucking that!” you end the argument.

“Staunch fucking cunt,” Al says under his breath, and the doc glares at him.

“You know I’m fucking right Al. You know I am,” you begin to tease him again, the mood lightening. Al thinks for a moment, before reluctantly conceding your point.

“Well no fucking tales of women leaving their pimps or the like, or I will murder you where you sleep,” he threatens, but you know his threats are hollow. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

“You’re a sore looser Al,” you say and stand with a grunt. You look down, and see a small puddle of fluids forming between your legs. “I think I just leaked cum on your floor Al,” you tell him, and your husband stands also, passing you your cane.

“You’re not the first,” Al replies, leading the both of you to the door. 

“What did Tolliver want to see you about anyway?” the doc asks Al, and you both pass him by. 

“That, doc, is not a story that should grace a woman’s ears.”

Walking out of the saloon you smile to the whores and Jewell, then you and your husband enter into the cool night air, finally relieved of your fiery arousal, and wonderfully satisfied. Your arms are linked, and as you look both ways down the thoroughfare you spot Charlie, leaning up against a building with a whiskey bottle in hand. He tips his hat to the two of you, and somehow you just know he had waited for you, to make sure you made it out of the saloon okay. You smile to him, and think of what a loyal friend he is. Walking off leisurely towards your house, you begin to speak again. 

“Well that was my first time fucking in a brothel Amos. Was it yours?” you ask, amused, and in reply all you receive is a coy smile from your husband. His silence speaks volumes. “A story for another time I gather...” you laugh, and pause for a moment, your satisfied smile growing even larger on your face. Your voice turns to a whisper. “And don’t ask me how I know this doc, but I think you may have just impregnated me again.”

The docs smile grows also, and you finally reach your home.

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Bring the Pain

Summary: Daphne Napier used to date Charles Lee Ray when she lived in Chicago... or at least he told her they were dating. He taught her everything she knew, helped her become the person she is today, and she truly believed he loved her. Then he died. Alexis Quinn lives in Hackensack, New Jersey with her girlfriend Tess Monroe. (Chucky/Charles Lee Ray x OC/reader) Words: 4,480

A/N: I have finally finished chapter 1 of Daphne's fic thank u chucky season 3 <3333

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ １

She was cleaning their apartment when she found it. 

Alexis had a nice apartment. It was larger than most Jersey apartments, with nice hardwood floors and four bedrooms. It was on a higher floor of a very nice building, in an even nicer part of town that made her question why Alexis hung around people like her and her friends. The furniture inside was older and made of dark oak wood, with deep gem colors and a velvety texture, and in the center of the living room was a large rug made of white fur - she still wasn’t sure if it was real or not. The kitchen had marble counters and stainless steel appliances. 

When she had been invited over for the first time a couple of months after meeting Alexis she tried not to show her shock and awe. After all, she never would have guessed Alexis was rich just by looking at her. The strawberry blonde woman often dressed like one of the local goths: all black with fishnets and touches of her favorite color, which was pink, and darker makeup. Alexis described herself as punk, though, and some outfits of hers fit that description, but the moment she saw where she lived she dismissed the idea of Alexis being anything other than a young woman rebelling against her rich parents. 

That night, Alexis confessed that she had a crush on her, smiling bashfully yet hardly hiding that seductive look in her emerald eyes under the low light of her fireplace.

“I like you.” She said so casually as everyone around them chattered amongst themselves. There were probably twenty other people there that night, Alexis called it a small house party, and she secretly wished she went there alone. The music was blaring. Her dark eyes widened with shock as she leaned forward. 

“What?” She choked into her red cup. 

“I said I like you, Tess.” All the brunette could do was blink in shock. The admittedly intimidating woman smiled widely and dropped her head as she laughed, her strawberry bangs covering her eyes. 

“You don’t do this often do you?” She chuckled. Tess’s face grew redder than a tomato as she stumbled over her words, trying to regain her composure and save her dignity. “Tess.” Alexis’s green eyes shone with amusement, like a cat that was playing with a mouse, but her tone was serious. 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

Her tactic seemed to work though, it got her into bed, and it was the start of their relationship. 

Three years passed and now Alexis was out every night doing god-knows-what and she was stuck at home cleaning. Her mother would laugh at her, remarking that “she always knew Alexis was the man in the relationship” in her usual spiteful tone before lecturing Tess on how she was right and she needed a real man. Her mother never was too supportive of her or her relationships. Alexis was not the first woman she loved, and - while she was sure they’d be together forever - if it didn’t work out Alexis wouldn’t be the last either. Her mother never seemed to understand that. 

Her mother’s opinions were incredibly outdated for the year 2021.

But part of her was growing resentful of her mother’s words, not just because she was not-so-vaguely homophobic, but because she was onto something. Tess stayed home all day and all night, not having to work because Alexis had it all covered somehow, and she cooked and cleaned and took care of everything around the apartment - Alexis’s apartment - while her girlfriend was out all day, sometimes all night too. She never signed up to be a housewife, and while staying home all day was nice at first, she had things she wanted to do and achieve eventually. Not to mention the fact that their relationship was supposed to be built on equality.

Make sure you get under the couches, you always forget under the couches. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head even when she didn’t want it there. Even though she hated to admit it, the disembodied voice of her mom was right, she did almost forget to clean under the couches. She started with the deep magenta one against the wall closest to the entrance, moving it onto the white rug before pausing.

There were magazines and newspapers underneath. 

Each one was clearly old, with the edges of their pages bent and creased and frayed. They looked well read, with creases on the spine of each magazine. The images were faded, but she recognized the face on each one. Emerald eyes stared back at her, and the usual mess of curly hair was pulled into two low ponytails, though it was a much darker auburn color than the rosy blonde she usually sported. On her lips was a dark red lipstick, and around her neck was the same choker with the magenta gem in the center…

The title of each magazine was relatively the same, something along the lines of “I secretly dated a serial killer.” There were a few mentions of a man, Charles Lee Ray, a familiar name to anyone who lived in Jersey or Chicago. She looked on with horror but also skepticism. They all looked like tabloid trash, and she was sure her girlfriend couldn’t have been in a magazine from over 30 years ago. She became more concerned about why her girlfriend would photoshop herself into a magazine claiming to be a dead serial killer’s mistress…. but the magazines felt old… too old to be faked. 

She pushed a strand of thin, brown hair back behind her ear as her hand shook.

She placed the magazines to the side and looked at the newspaper. In big, bold letters it read: 

“ACCOMPLICE TO LAKESHORE STRANGLER ACQUITTED” 

with a picture of the same woman walking down the steps to a courthouse. On either side of her were her lawyers and a security guard, and she was dressed like Marissa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny, with a sleek black dress and a baggy leather jacket. She was hiding her face from the people who waited outside, flanking either side of the barricaded steps, flashing cameras and hurling words at her from the looks of it. She seemed to be the same age as Alexis. 

The article inside mentioned a slew of things she’d never read up on before. She was familiar with Charles Lee Ray, and the events in 1988, but she’d never heard of Daphne Napier. She supposed if she was acquitted most people didn’t find it interesting enough to talk about her in podcasts or discussions online, and she wasn’t really into true crime so she wouldn’t have known either way, but something about this new story kept her wanting to read more. The article said she claimed she had been in a relationship with his other accomplice, Eddie Caputo when she was only seventeen, and when she realized what exactly her boyfriend was doing she tried to get away. She then claimed the two killers held her hostage for four years, and while she said she never did any of the killing herself, she admitted to being forced to help them get away and clean up their messes. 

The images made her sick to her stomach. They were uncannily similar to Alexis in every way, and for some strange reason, deep down she feared the woman she’d come to love was not who she claimed to be. She couldn’t bear to look inside the magazines, wondering just what Daphne might have said to those publishers as opposed to a judge and jury. She supposed it wasn’t good. 

The sound of keys jingling in the hallway and the door unlocking startled her.

“Tess? You up? I’m home!” Alexis’s (or could she even call her that anymore?) thick brooklyn accent sounded from the hallway. Tess froze, still holding the newspaper in her hands as large, black boots with pink laces came into view. Her gaze traveled up the length of her fishnet-clad legs and the rest of her body, where she met that same emerald stare from the cover of the magazine. Tess’s eyes filled with tears as Alexis tilted her head like a curious dog. 

“What’cha got there?” She asked with no hint of malice or even nervousness. Tess looked down slowly at the paper, then back at her girlfriend. She had no idea why she felt so frightened. She opened her mouth to speak and found it hard to put the words together. At worst, her girlfriend is somehow much older than she looks and claims to be, with a different name and a past filled with serial killers. At best she’s just a true crime nut who has the hots for Charles Lee Ray. She honestly hoped it was the second option, that was much easier to deal with.

Her mouth was dry. “I don’t know what this is” was all she could muster. Alexis took another step forward, looking over Tess’s shoulder with that same look of innocent curiosity. She furrowed her brow. 

“That’s me.” She stated simply, as if the very idea that a picture of a woman 30 years ago was actually her wasn’t earth shattering for Tess. The brunette let out a small whine.

“What?” Emerald eyes met her brown ones. Alexis smiled again.

“That’s me. Daphne Napier is me.” She doubled down in a completely serious tone, pointing to the newspaper and magazines. She must have lost it, Tess thought, or maybe I have if I’m starting to believe her.

“Daphne Napier was twenty one when this article was published. You’re almost twenty five.” But you haven’t aged a day since we met. Alexis, or Daphne, smiled to herself, the look of innocence gone. Her smile seemed malicious and bitter. She put her hands on her hips and began to pace the foyer. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” The way the cherry blonde laughed sent shivers down Tess’s spine. “Look, Tess, there’s a lot that you don’t know about me, there’s a lot I haven’t told you.” She stopped and gestured between the two of them. 

“I thought we had something special.” She sounded heartbroken. Tess stood, grabbing Alexis’s (Daphne’s) hands in hers. 

“We do!” Tess exclaimed, bringing Alexis’s (Daphne’s) cold fingers to her lips. “We do.” She reassured her, whispering against her flesh. “I just don’t understand.” There was a change in her girlfriend’s eyes, something more sinister replacing the sorrow. 

“I really liked you too, I was hoping we could keep doing this for a few more years.” She was laughing but hardly smiling. There was something deep down that told Tess to run - to get out of there before she got hurt. But Alexis would never hurt her… right? 

This wasn’t Alexis though, and Tess could never be sure Alexis ever existed. This was Daphne Napier, a woman who was most likely a monster in her own right.

“We can.” She ignored the warning signs, that feeling deep inside, to appease the woman she’d come to love. She hoped there was some truth to the Alexis persona, and she hoped there was something to save here. “I’ll forget I saw it, I promise. Your name is Alexis Quinn.” Tess muttered. She wasn’t sure if she was saying to appease the erratic woman in front of her or if she was trying to convince herself.

Tess could feel her heartbeat in her throat as her stomach turned uneasily. She couldn’t hold Alexis’s emerald gaze any longer. Who are you, Alexis? She thought to herself uneasily. Who am I? What are we doing here?

Her name is Alexis Quinn. Her name is Alexis Quinn. Her name is…

“I’m sorry.” Tess could barely react before something was smashed against her head, and she fell to the floor. Daphne stood over her, watching silently to make sure her (soon to be ex) girlfriend was truly knocked out. She glanced at the old, iron doorstep in her hand and sighed as she dropped it. It collided with the wood floor with a loud THUD!

Blood began to pour from the large gash in the back of the brunette’s head, like the crimson halo of a fallen angel. Daphne sneered at the girl, Fallen’s right, don’t know about any angel though. She knelt down and felt at Tess’s pale-growing-paler-by-the-minute neck, cold fingers searching for a pulse. Weakly, the brunette reached out for her wrist, for comfort from the person she once loved so dearly. Daphne pulled her hand back quickly. 

“I hate it when they don’t see it’s over.” She huffed, sadistically mimicking the cadence of a valley girl in a high school drama. “The best exes know when it’s time to move on.” She whispered, her voice shifting to something more soothing as she tauntingly ran her fingers through Tess’s thin strands. Her other hand reached for the doorstep beside her. 

“Take a few notes from the other guys and drop dead already.” The iron struck the side of her head quickly and without mercy - the cracking sound her skull made would be sickening to anyone less than a pro, but luckily Daphne was just that. 

“Alright, Damballa, this one’s a little early so you gotta work with me, here.” She muttered as she gripped the pink gem on her choker. She swore it glowed ever so softly whenever she did this, though she could never prove it. With one hand raised to the sky, she spoke with conviction. 

“Ade due Damballa…”

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

Chicago, Illinois

1988

It was true. Daphne felt sick to her stomach. 

Her emerald eyes were locked on the man in front of her; disheveled with stubble along his chin, tousled dark hair, and a brown coat wrapped around his wiry form. The black fingerless gloves on his hands almost completed the look. He looked like a bum. 

“You left him there?” Her voice was weak and shaking, hiding the anger and sorrow that lurked beneath her porcelain skin. Dark eyes looked her up and down, which only served to fuel the fire that raged in her gut. She wanted to drive the screwdriver that laid on the dirty, broken counter into his eye. The hideout was a mess, and she assumed it was because neither her nor Tiffany had been around in some time. From what she heard, Chuck seemed to have found someone new.

She would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt. 

“I haven’t seen you in god-knows-how-long and this is the first thing you wanna talk about? Anyway, what’s that around your neck? You get into gaudy jewelry lately?” Was all Eddie could muster. Daphne glared at him as she clutched the pink gem on the golden necklace she had bought from some lady. The gem was valuable, the necklace itself… not so much. She would have to make something more suited to her style. 

Everything else was the truth, though, he hadn’t seen Daphne since she stopped seeing Chucky. Part of him thought she was dead - thought Tiffany had gotten to her or maybe Charles got bored before…

Either way, Daphne stood before him, dark lines of mascara running down her tear soaked cheeks with smeared lipstick upon her perfect, plump lips. Her dark apparel seemed appropriate - he guessed she saw the news, though she always dressed like that. It was part of the reason Tiff stopped dressing like an uptown brat. Daph’s auburn hair was as fiery as the day she left. Winter fire… 

Fire was all she was as she seethed in place, clenching her fists. Large, black boots stomped on the ground, taking Eddie out of his thoughts.

“No. No, you are not changing the subject. You left him there!” She screeched. She was so angry she could tear him apart with her bare hands. She fought the urge to wrap perfectly manicured fingers around his thin neck. “You have - no, had - one job! One fucking job, Eddie!”

“The cops were closing in on us, Daph.” He began, taking that same patronizing tone he used to use when they argued when they were dating. It only made her angrier. Made her heart ache more. 

“Oh wait, I forgot, you only care about him, right?” That was the last straw. Her fist pounded on his chest.

“He was our friend you fucking asshole!”

Eddie grabbed her wrists, pulling her even closer. Daphne felt like she could collapse then and there. Her legs felt like jelly, her head heavy and hazy as she tried to focus through the barrage of tears that flooded her eyes. She had never felt so many emotions at once before… it was terrible and smothering. “He was a bit more than a friend to you, though. Isn’t that right, Daph?” She pushed herself away from him and stumbled backwards before collapsing to the ground, heaving. 

All she could do was wail, feeling the rawness in her throat and the heaviness in her chest. Every move she made reminded her she was still here, still breathing, still alive. 

She was alive, unlike Chucky, and that was what hurt the most. She thought the worst thing he did to her was leave her… she had a whole other thing coming. 

“Shut the fuck up.” She muttered through the tears, wiping lamely at her cheeks. 

“Tiff put an end to that one, didn’t she?” She bit her tongue at that one, glaring up at the cowardly man in front of her through blazing bangs. 

“I didn’t know about that! He insisted they weren’t together anymore, he said she was crazy!”

“He was only half lying, then. What a good guy!” Eddie spouted sarcastically. Daphne rolled her eyes. 

“What we had doesn’t erase the fact that I still care…” She trailed off, biting back the tightness in her throat and tears that swelled in her eyes as she realized her mistake. “Cared about him.” She choked. 

“I cared about you, Daph.” Eddie crouched down beside her. Daphne scoffed and crossed her arms, scooting away from him ever so slightly as she fought the urge to laugh bitterly in his face. “No, really, I did. I mean, Charles had a point, dating you when I did was bad news but he was only saying that cause he wanted you for himself. I thought you were beautiful, intelligent and so wise beyond your years.” 

“C’mon, Eddie, we both know that’s bullshit.” She sniffled, rubbing her slick nose with the sleeve of her magenta cardigan. He knew she was referring to his accusation.

“Is it? He tells me to dump you, and I send you away cause of it. You turn nineteen, start coming back around, and suddenly he’s all over you.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t still a little bitter. 

“I was almost twenty.” Daphne exclaimed with conviction, ever the naive teen he met all those years ago. He rolled his eyes at her. “I didn’t just turn nineteen when I got together with Chuck. Anyway, it’s not like you’re much better.” She got to her feet, towering over the gaunt man in her platform boots. 

“Don’t try to take the moral high ground when you dated a goddamn seventeen year old!” She continued, rubbing in the little fact Eddie conveniently left out of his manipulation. Daphne was sixteen when she met Eddie, and she was indeed seventeen when they decided to make things official. 

She thought she was so cool back then. Now she knows what happened.

“Jesus…” Eddie muttered as he stood. 

“At least Chuck had the decency to know that was fucked up! He respected me.” Daphne crossed her arms and looked away, her eyes focusing on the screwdriver again, if only for a moment. She thought of Chucky in that moment - thought of the way his sky colored eyes seemed to soften at the sight of her, the way he would smile at her and guide her hand while he taught her to slit someone’s throat, the way he corrupted her in the sweetest and most sinful ways and the way he whispered loving words in her ear, holding her closer and closer until…

“He loved me.” She stated in a voice no louder than a whisper, and in her heart she knew it was true. 

“You’re fucking delusional.” Eddie spat, throwing his hands up in frustration as he pushed past her. “You sound like Tiff.” 

That was the last straw. 

Daphne was quick to grab the screwdriver from the counter and plunge it into Eddie’s open palm, ripping through the cheap cotton blend and tearing through his flesh. He pulled away from her grip, her hand still firmly wrapped around the tool as she withdrew it, blood dripping off the rusted metal and onto the dusty floors. Eddie cradled the wounded hand close to his chest, his dark eyes wide and focused on her as he monitored her closely, making sure she wouldn’t drive the rusty tool into his neck next. 

“Don’t you ever compare me to her! I’m my own person, Eddie!” Daphne screamed before turning around. She felt the anger bubbling in her chest again, the red that blinded her vision. She could kill him right then and there, and she felt she would be justified.

After all, he did kill her best friend.

(Her best friend who hadn’t spoken to her in a year. Her best friend who basically pumped and dumped the moment things got too complicated for him, regardless of how she felt.)

“I’m not some bumbling, insecure psycho idiot who tries to be someone else when my man loses interest! I at least know when to take the hint and walk away!” Spoken like someone who wasn’t completely and utterly insecure - no, not at all, she thought to herself. Daphne’s feelings toward Tiffany were complicated. She did feel bad about what she inadvertently did to her, yet part of her was still angry at the woman. After all, had she not threatened to kill Daphne, her and Chucky would still be together. 

Would being the other woman be enough for her, though? Would she truly be happy with the small stops and little visits that resulted in sex and not much else? 

She paced around the kitchen like a caged tiger - unpredictable and dangerous, as usual. Eddie missed when Daph wasn’t so comfortable with killing and maiming. 

In many ways Chucky changed her for the worse.

A sudden calmness came over her eyes, practically glazing them over as a smirk made its way to her smudged lips. She dropped the screwdriver.

“Hope you got your tetanus shot, babe, you’re probably gonna need it.” She began as she turned on her heel, leaving Eddie trembling in the corner to watch her slink out the front door. 

Along the way, Daphne seemed to miss a little boy walking down the street alone, hugging his Good Guy doll close to his chest.

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

Hackensack, New Jersey

2023

Daphne was tired. Things were starting to get a bit desperate now that it had been two whole years since she killed Tess. 

A soul can only last as long as the amount of time she spends sweetening them up. Unfortunately for her, she was beginning to run out of time with no one new lined up to take Tess’s place. Sure, a one night stand here and there could give her a few more days, but the amount of people she would have to sleep with in order to stay young for another year while she lines up the next poor sucker would be too damn many.

The amulet of eternal life was complicated like that - it needed a soul to sustain a soul. 

God, it made her sound like a vampire.

Spiritual vampire, she used to muse cheerfully to herself as she would consider taking another life for her own. The souls would keep her young forever, or at least that’s what she thought. It took only a few more wrinkles near her eyes for her to figure out she needed a connection with the souls the amulet collected.

Now she was a fucking black widow. 

She was grateful for a few of her exes, though, like the older rich man Boris. He’s the reason she didn’t have to work anymore, and the reason she was living in the apartment she was. Once she got rid of his brats, and sweet talked him into putting her into the will, she killed him. Best three years of her life, though. The gowns and gifts were to die for!

But Tess was different.

Daphne hadn’t felt so alive in a long time. In a lot of ways, Tess seemed to fill the hole Chucky had left over thirty years prior. She was wonderful and kept her on her toes, even if it wasn’t in the usual exciting way Chucky used to. She managed to make Daphne laugh, made her appreciate life again…

And she supposed that was why she struggled to find a new victim. No one was Tess… or Chucky for that matter. 

Her apartment was dark and empty, with no one around to liven the place up. Daphne was out all day and night searching for someone… someone to love, someone to hold, someone to consume into her own being when the time was right. 

God I hate dating! She thought frustratedly as she slid down the surface of her front door.

Then, in the darkness, she heard something drop. It sounded like one of her books, but she couldn’t be sure. She pressed her lips into a thin line and straightened up, feeling irritation and anger in her core. Oh, whoever decided to try and rob me tonight is in for a bad fucking time. She thought bitterly. To her right was the iron doorstep, the same one she used to kill Tess, and though its metal handle burned her skin with the thought of what she did with it, she still crouched down to collect it. 

Its weight reminded her of her sins, but it excited her all the same. 

Daphne cautiously moved into the living room, where the blaze of a small fire illuminated the area and she saw the silhouette of what looked like a child sitting in her armchair. Confused as to how she missed the light from the front door and why a child would even be in her apartment, she wavered in her stance, lowering the iron. 

The tableside lamp clicked on, and before her sat an aging Good Guy doll. 

Red hair tousled and ragged, with smile lines around his thin lips and bags under sky blue eyes that used to stare at her lovingly, Daphne knew exactly who this was. 

“Hiya doll.” Chucky greeted in his usual raspy, sarcastic tone. “It’s been a while.”

[yourcoolistjennifertillyfan]

I think the only time I was genuinely scared of tiffany is at the end of chucky season 1 ep 8 and nica wakes up to her limbs missing.and tiffany is bein all creepy and stuff 😭😭

[streets-in-paradise]

Untill Death Tear Us Apart - Andy Barclay (fem)Reader/Chucky (fem)Reader - Part 2

Masterlist

Word Count 1.5 K

Warnings: Same warnings of part 1 

Summary: Exposure forces Chucky to come up with excuses as he tries to keep your family on his side. Thinking on your children as the kid he once was, Andy needs to set the twins free from his manipulations before finishing him off. 

Notes: I wasn’t planning on doing a part two when I came up with this, but it happened because I kept thinking of the concept. To continue I had to name the boys and i kept my old habit of using horror names. They were named after Sam Winchester from Supernatural and Danny from The Shinning. 

Tags: @losersclubisms​

The situation imploded quicker than expected, Andy was relatively pleased with how fast Chucky’s anger overcame his need of playing the fool for you. Unfortunately, the doll wasn’t going to give up quickly and, knowing that his life depended on it, he still tried to get you on his side. The kids were crying, scared of the people keeping their beloved friend at gunpoint and seeing your state of horrified confusion was making Andy hesitate. Like your sons, he used to be a kid manipulated through the hole in his life left by the absence of his father. If he would proceed to kill the doll wordlessly and quickly as usual, they would never get the answers they would need later in life. He gesturally warned Kyle about the switch of tactic, then proceeded into it. 

Killing Chucky wasn’t enough, he had to be exposed. Those children deserved to know that he was never their friend, that he played them the whole time and that he was the killer of their dad. Unlike in other houses, the doll got to cause too much harm there and he couldn’t get away with it for free. He didn’t deserve a victimizing death, one that would leave him to be remembered as a loving friend by two naive boys that would be crying for him. The lack of explanations could result in more unaware collaboration on their part if Chucky would ever decide to make a comeback on another body. 

That was how you ended up stuck in the most unbelievable of arguments: a talking toy against a man were aggressively fighting for credibility and you were the judge whose approbation they were seeking. 

“ We can still be together, this all ain’t plastic.” Chucky told you, as if the proposition would be a completely normal thing. “ You gotta admit I have been a great husband to you and beneath this I am a real man, you know? “ 

It repulsed you, weirded you even more than not knowing exactly what the hell he was. 

“ A serial killer ” Andy quickly replicated. “ His real name is Charles Lee Ray, he got his soul transferred into a doll after being shot by police.” 

“ I know, the doll body creeps you, but back in the day I used to be way better looking than this dumbass. Just google me and you will find out I am really hot. “ 

The insane answer got on his rival’s nerves. 

“ That body has been decomposing in a graveyard since 1988 … and how is that a valid point?” 

“ She will trust me more if she gets to know what she is missing.” Chucky teased back. “ Nobody needs you to point out the obvious, Andy.” 

“ So, you are not Alex” You briefly interrupted, pointing at the man over the name he introduced himself by when he arrived at your house. You weren’t trying to make it an actual act of questioning, it was confusion talking for you. 

“ See? He has lied about his name. Who knows what else he is hiding?”

“ YOU ARE A SUPERNATURALLY POSSESSED DOLL!” Andy defended himself. “ ISN’T THAT BIG FUCKING LYING?” 

The doll didn’t answer him, directing his speech once more to you. 

“ I never lied to you about that, (y/n). Told your kids I am Chucky and that is my actual name. Nickname for Charles, actually. “ 

“ All this time you have been a man? “ In your tone of voice when delivering the question it was noticeable that you were feeling sick. “ When I held you, in all that marriage playing… On my BED?” 

“ Imagine it’s like Princess and the Frog, but instead it is Pinocchio. Inside the doll you get the prince” He justified himself. “ I was here with you every fucking moment of the godamn day. I have spent more time at your side than any guy you have ever met. I know your likes and habits, your worries and fears. I heard you cry, vent your frustration out: I stood up by your side at the most horrible moments and loved to be there. No one will ever bring you the same dedication and I trust you will see that now. “ 

Kyle was honestly shocked witnessing the reach of Chucky’s ability to manipulate facts in his favor. She didn’t get as much of that as Andy once did, but it was horribly disgusting to see anyways. 

“ He played the same game on another woman back in that year, her husband was found in the river. Did yours die in an accident too?” 

Your eyes started to fill with falling tears, desperation overwhelming you as you were trying to make the math and remember if Chucky was already there at the time of the accident. 

“ Of you and me… Who are the ones holding guns, Kyle?” 

“ We are protecting her from YOU!” Andy insisted, trying to visually reach out to you and see if you were beginning to understand the situation. 

“ I never hurt her, or the boys. They know I am their friend.” 

“ YOU KILLED THEIR FATHER!” 

Hugging you as if their lives depended on it, they were one with your pain and fear. Danny acted the bravest, looking at the doll in the eye while daring to ask the question so his brother wouldn’t have to. 

“ Is that true, Chucky? Did you kill daddy?” 

He was trapped, exposed to his own lies, but still tried one last attempt to keep control over the boy.

“ I was playing hide the soul with him, but he was a real asshole and got against it… Just like Andy, he is an asshole who wants to separate us. Are you gonna trust him, or me? I am your friend, Danny. I’m always for you and Sammy, whenever you feel lonely you come to play with me.” 

Andy couldn’t stand it anymore, it was like staring at his childhood self in a magical mirror. He could be shooting Chucky right there, skipping the traumatic experience, but he knew that both of those kids needed it.  

“ You are not our friend.” Sammy added, releasing you to hold his brother. “ Friends don’t do that. “ 

“ You are not dad, you will never be. I want MY DAD back, CHUCKY!” 

That was the sign Andy was waiting for, turned into a subtle gesture that the boys made at him in order to indicate that they were ready for what had to happen. It made him remember of the determination he showed as a little boy setting Chucky on fire, how clear it was for him that last manipulation he tried when locked in the chimney. 

A mess of bloody doll remains put the end after he and his sister emptied the loads of their guns over Chucky. Your little broken family had a lot to process, but at least you would be able to do it in peace. However, it had to be explained to you that when it was about him all ends were circumstantial. He showed a singular obsession with you and that was always bad news. it was most likely he would attempt a comeback to get revenge or a kidnap. 

Andy felt the personal need of being the one doing the warning to you, along with some other important explanations. 

“ My real name is Andy Barclay, I once was the first child he terrorized. “ He later confessed to you while Kyle distracted the boys so they wouldn’t get to hear more traumatizing information. “ He has chased me my whole childhood and I have dedicated the rest of my life to make sure he would never hurt anyone else. The woman you have met as Christine is Kyle, my sister. We both wish we could have arrived on time, but the fucker has made tons of clones on dolls and those are not always easy to track.” 

“ But you killed him, you saved our lives…. How can he still be out there?” 

“ We don’t know for sure how, but what truly matters is that he can come back anytime and you need to be ready. Yours isn’t a disposable family, he has some psycho attachment to you and that means he is not going to stop easily.” 

A knot in your throat formed to the mere mention of that. 

“ Do you know how to shoot?” He asked you, seeking to help you despite the anxious shock. “ It is the safest way to stop him, he has advantage on closer combat. Your highest chances to win are with a gun on hand.” 

“ I have never held one, those have always terrified me…” 

You were feeling the world collapsing, but he held you as if he was attaching you to reality itself through that kind gesture. At that moment, his embrace was the safest place for you. 

“ It’s alright, we will figure that out. I’m going to stay in town as much as you need and teach you all what needs to be learned to keep your kids safe. I’m not doing this for all the families, I usually hit the road as soon as the doll is dead but you were an exception to him and that makes you an exception to me.” 

[haddonfieldwhore]

charles lee ray x oc (part 3/3? maybe)

warnings: language, smoking, small age gap (7yrs), drinking, implied/borderline smut, kinda nsfw basically the whole time 💀, not edited haha

@psychohorrorbitch because they asked for it 🖤

remember what i said about maybe never seeing charles again? well that didn’t go exactly as planned, as a few nights a week he’d show up at my door and end up in my bed. i was surprised at how much i found myself enjoying his company, and missing it when he wasn’t around. he never called, he would just show up, usually late at night and he’d leave sometime during the day, only to return later that night or the next. i didn’t mind, but i had indeed been finding myself in a bit of a downward spiral- in regards to both my job and social life; i found myself thinking of him more than i care to admit.

“charles-“ i moaned as his lips ghosted kisses down my throat, my back against the wall as he pushed his body against mine.

i had arrived home from work to find him waiting outside my apartment, smoking a cigarette as he leant against the brick building. a smile crossed his lips as i walked up to him, his arm slinging over my shoulder.

“how was work, doll?” he asked, still hanging off me as i unlocked the building front door and went inside, dragging him along with me towards the elevator and pushing the button.

“just like any other day- how long were you waiting out there this time? i thought i told you i was at work till 9 when you were over last night.” i stepped into the elevator as it dinged, the doors opening with a metal scraping sound. charles backed me into the corner of the elevator, his arms caging me in as he stared down at me, his eyes gleaming.

“not that i wasn’t listening, toots- but i remember other things from last night-“ his lips met mine roughly and my hands wove into his long messy hair, tugging it gently but with enough force to get a reaction from him. “to answer your question…” he groaned, his hands trailing down to my ass and lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he held me up, the cold metal wall of the elevator supporting the rest of my weight. “too damn long.”

we stumbled into my apartment, after i ungracefully unlocked the door after finally convincing charles to put me back on my feet. i was barely able to set my bag down before charles’ slender fingers found the buttons of my work shirt, undoing them with ease and sliding the shirt off my shoulders.

“what’s got you so worked up?” i teased. charles, not in the mood to be teased, wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing gently but enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

“mmm you really don’t wanna know.” he growled in my ear, before pushing me towards the bedroom.

•

i don’t know what inspired charles to be so brutally honest with me at this moment, but as i found myself in the now oh so familiar state of coming down next to him, he spoke up.

“hey doll, ya wanna know what i did today?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling. i could tell by the way he asked that it wasn’t really a question. i rolled over, crossing my arms on his chest and resting my chin on them, looking at him expectantly.

“what?” i asked.

“i killed a girl,” he said, his tone serious, but with charles it was hard to tell, and the smile on his face made me a little uneasy. i giggled a little, but he spoke again. “i ain’t joking doll.” his tone was less serious, but his face gave it away- he wasn’t lying. i sat up, the sheets looking around my waist as i straddled his lap, causing him to groan and shift underneath me a bit.

“yeah?” i asked, trying not to be distracted by the feeling of his fingertips trailing up my hips to rest on my waist just below my ribcage. charles sat up a little, leaning against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“yeah.” he moaned as i moved my hips against his, his grip on me surely leaving bruises with how his fingertips dig into my sides.

“i think i must be crazy….. because that’s kinda turning me on.” i admitted, causing charles to let out a genuine laugh.

“i think that’s about the best response i could hope for, doll.” his fingers grabbed my hair and pulled my face down until our lips met roughly, his teeth biting at my bottom lip. i wrapped my arms around his neck as charles kissed down my chest, stopping when we heard someone knock on the door to my apartment. charles looked at me quizzically. “you order pizza or something?” he questioned. i shook my head, crawling out of his lap and throwing on some clothes, fixing my hair in the mirror in the bathroom. my eyes stopped on the purple marks all over my throat and shoulders , a mix of bite marks and fingerprints around my neck. i shook my head at charles, who smiled smugly as he did his belt up, his unbuttoned dress shirt the only clothing on his top half. 

deciding there was no way whoever was at the door wouldn’t be able to tell what we had been doing, i decided trying to look presentable was a lost case and headed to the door where someone was persistently knocking.

“alright alright you better be on fire!” i called, a chuckle coming from charles in the other room and i realized how much it sounded like something he would say. i reached the door, my hand turning the knob and opening the door to reveal gina, a shocked look on her face when she was the state i was in.

“lindsey what the hell happened to you?! and where have you been you haven’t answered my called for weeks!” she ranted, barging past me and into my apartment.

“i’ve been… busy.” i said. well it wasn’t a lie. “and you weren’t exactly nice to me last time we spoke. ya know? when you stood me up for some guy?” i wasn’t even mad about it anymore honestly, but the way she barged in here mad at me was pissing me off.

“busy with what?” she asked, looking around my apartment, which admittedly was a mess. there were empty beer bottles scattered around, the couch cushions and pillows were messed up from certain… activities-

“with me,” i heard charles’ speak behind me and i jumped as his arms wrapped around my waist. smoke swirled in the air next to my head from the cigarette in his mouth and he rested his chin on top of my head. oh gina is gonna love this i thought.

“lindsey… who’s your- friend?” she asked, clearly uncomfortable with his presence and after connecting the dots between the marks on my body to the man looming over me, matching love bites down his exposed torso to the waistband of his pants.

“gina, this is charles. charles this is gina.” i kept the introductions brief, since i had never really planned on introducing gina to charles for more than one reason. i knew she wouldn’t like him, but i also didn’t really care to be her friend anymore in the first place.

“pleasure,” charles taunted, and i elbowed him lightly. he passed me the cigarette which i took without thinking, before he kissed the side of my head, probably as a possessive thing for than an affection thing but i didn’t mind.

“i thought you quit?” gina snapped.

“for a bit but i picked it back up again-“

“when you picked him up? god lindsey what are you doing with him?” she scoffed. i was annoyed with her to say the least. i always knew she was a bitch but she seemed every worse lately.

“oh fuck off gina, he’s better than half the guys you’ve dated. and we’re just fucking around-“

“no no i can see it in your eyes, linds, you like him. im telling you, a guy like that is just gonna use you and then leave you,” she said, pointing towards the bedroom where charles snuck off to.

“god have you always been such a cunt? or did you catch it in a bar somewhere when you told me you had to work and couldn’t hang out with me?”

“whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “clearly you’ve decided to let your life go to shit and i don’t want any part of it. don’t call me when he knocks you up and then disappears!” gina spat, before leaving, slamming the door behind her. i shook my head, putting the finished cigarette out in a beer bottle before walking back to the bedroom. charles was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a knife from the kitchen, and looked up at me when i entered the room.

“when did you take that?” i asked, straddling his lap again.

“a while ago. i hid it under the nightstand.”

“hmm.” i tapped the blade with my finger gently.

“your friend- can i kill her?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. as tempting as that sounded, i shook my head.

“not yet.” i replied. “i have other plans for right now.” my lips found his jaw as i pulled the skin between my teeth. i heard the knife get thrown to the floor a ways away from the bed before charles wrapped his arms around me and flipped us over, crawling on top of me on the bed.

“i think i’m gonna keep you.” he laughed, and i smiled up at him before his lips met mine again.

[gvalue]

Hello!!!

The third chapter of Against all Odds is out! Chapter four is already written and I will be posting it soon. Remember that you are always welcome to give feedback, comment, leave kudos or share 💗🦋

Chapter's summary:

Five years later since their first interaction, Y/N has a change of plans in her working life. A challenging project will be leading her to new places and people she thought she would never see again.

You can find the first chapter of Against all Odds here.

[writing-good-vibes]

greetings, friends and readers !! 💓📚 i hope you're all making the most of spooky whore autumn !! 😈💓

and as it is that time of year again, i welcome you all to my second annual HALLOWEEN PROMPT FILL !! 👻💀🎃

i'll be accepting prompts from THIS PROMPT LIST from NOW until 24th OCTOBER, so plenty of time for you guys to think and for me to write !! multiple asks are more than welcome, as well as multiple prompts in one !!

*PLEASE REMEMBER TO ADD WHICH CATEGORY YOUR NUMBERED PROMPT IS FROM, THERE ARE BOTH CUTE AND SPOOKY PROMPTS ON THE LIST !!*

CHARACTER LISTS:

the usual brad dourif rogues: charles, jack, tommy, sheriff, doc, grima, billy and tucker.

misc. horror: bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair, otis driftwood and chop top sawyer.

*[if requesting any of the sinclair brothers, please specify is you would like a reader-insert or my usual domestic sibling slices-of-life, the choice is yours !!]*

[samsshitfics]

REQUESTS OPEN!!

This is a mlm blog fem/fem aligned dni. Dom!Male Reader only.

Current favorite song(s):

Anons:

-🦈

Blog recs:@trianglesimp @pastelclovds @luvrbucks

What I don't write:

-Rape, nonconsensual acts, sexual abuse (if it's a comfort fic then these are okay)

-Underage smut

-Character x Female/fem aligned DNI, you have more than enough.

What I do write:

-Angst, comfort, fluff, and smut

-i do headcanons, drabbles, blurbs, one shots, and if I have enough motivation I might write multi-part fics

-i do gender neutral readers too!

Fandoms I write for

-The Rookie

-Supernatural(I haven't seen the whole show yet)

-ASOUE

-Numb3rs

-TWD

-Celebrities, actors, musicians

-Gotham

-many more fandoms that I can't remember I'm in

-Criminal Minds

-To Kill a mockingbird (Atticus is the only romantic option!! Jem and Scout are familial and platonic only!!)

-Diary Of A Wimpy Kid (Rodrick only)

-Spiderverse(I have not seen ATSV yet)

-Avatar(WOW as well when I watch it and do more research about the Na'vi and Pandora)

-MCU

-The 100(I haven't seen the whole show yet)

-The Princess Bride

-Hocus Pocus

-The Mighty Ducks

-The Crow

-House of Wax

-The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Chucky(only his human form because I am weak in my little gay knees for brad dourif)

-Top Gun

Barbie(Ken<3)

-More to come

Enjoy yourselves!

[lovelyyy-luna]

baby play

pairing: (charles lee ray x fem!reader)

fandom: child's play

type: fluff

prompt(s):

46. here I have an extra weapon

134. Shit you're freezing let's get you warmed up alright

word count: 517

date: march 3, 2021

masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. The storm knocked out the power.

You tried to call your boyfriend but the landline wasn’t working.

You had just moved in with your boyfriend Chucky and he didn’t live in the safest part of town.

The storm shook the windows and the doors around the house. The wind was howling and you were just hoping that your boyfriend would get home quickly and safely.

Normally you wouldn’t worry that much but add in a scary neighborhood, a wild storm, and the fact that you are 8 and a half months pregnant you had a right to be worried.

You huddled around the front window by the door. A huge gust of wind rustled the trees and you hear the back door slam.

Your heart is pounding out your ears. A wave of fear crashes over you. You only have the light from the candles you lit to guide you to your doom.

You think to yourself this is what happens in a horror movie to anyone that wants to check out the sound in the scary part of the house. They get murdered.

You walk in front of the kitchen doorway and see nothing. It was probably just the wind shaking the back door.

You let your shoulders drop and calm down just a little bit.

Hands emerge from the darkness behind you grabbing your shoulders causing you to scream.

You turn around and it’s your boyfriend, “Charles Lee Ray! You scared me half to death!” you yell as you slap his chest with your hands.

“Oh baby did I scare you that bad?” he laughs

“Yes!” you chuckle. “What took you so long?”

“It’s like the end of the world out there babe.”

“Do you have any weapons or anything we can defend ourselves with?”

He looked at you confused, “Well like you said it’s like the end of the world out there, and with that comes some crazies.”

“Of course I have weapons and here I have an extra weapon just for you,” he says as he grabs his crotch.

You laugh and shove him away, “last time I used that weapon this came into our lives.” you say as you point to your belly.

“And how is baby Charles doing?”

“It could be Charlotte. But the baby is doing good” you look down and rub your belly, he comes behind you and caresses your belly.

This is a moment you want to cherish forever. You were madly in love and very happy.

His hand trialed up your arms, “Shit you're freezing let's get you warmed up alright?”

He takes you into the living room and leads you to the couch. He starts the fire and sits on the couch next to you.

Your hands tangle with his. You look over at him and he kisses the top of your forehead.

You sigh deeply and he says, “this moment is perfect. Nothing can ruin it.”

“Um Chucky?” he looks at you. “I think my water just broke.”

His eyes lit up and a smile was plastered on his face.

♡please like and/or reblog♡

wanna be tagged? (X)

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @salemwitch96, @eclecticwildflowers, @illiana-mystery

warnings: swearing, mention of blood

part one

The door opened and I heard keys on the end table. I ventured out from the bedroom to see chucky leaning against the door, a haunted look in his eyes.

“everything ok?” I asked, slowly making my way over to him. Chuckys eyes jumped up from the floor. He let me wrap my arms around his waist, his settling around me as he continued to stare into oblivion.

“Covers fucking blown.” He whispered. Chucky closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. “Two teens came in…” I nodded slowly and pulled him flush against me. Burying my hand in his hair, I breathed out a sigh.

“need to watch your language this weekend.” I whispered. Chucky pulled back and narrowed his eyes at me. “Talk a little louder and you’ll see.” I whispered back with a smile.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, his voice going back to normal. I pulled away from him at the sound of little feet running down the hallway. Chucky took his eyes off me long enough to see Beverly running towards him. His face completely changed and he knelt down in time to hug her. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes kiddo!” He exclaimed as he stood up, holding her tight to him.

“she’s staying here this weekend while her mom takes care of some things.” Chucky smiled as Beverly pulled back and put her hands on his cheeks.

“hi chucky!” Beverly exclaimed. “We’re carving pumpkins!” Chucky put her down and took her hand as Beverly tried to pull him to the kitchen.

“you left her in the kitchen alone with a knife?” Chucky asked me, a smirk on his face. I laughed and shook my hand.

“you got a little paint on your cheek chuck.” I laughed again and chucky looked down at Beverly’s hands.

“bev, you’re covered in paint!” He laughed.

“I was painting a pumpkin.” She explained. “(Y/N/N) wouldn’t let me carve one.” Beverly pouted and chucky laughed.

“rightly so.” He agreed, smiling down at her. “Show me what you painted.” I leaned against the door as chucky sat down with Beverly in his lap. As they worked on the pumpkin together, I set about getting our pumpkins ready. Chucky would look at me from time to time, clearly feeling better than from when he walked in the door. “I think you’re done kid.” Chucky laughed, gently prying the paintbrush away from Beverly when the pumpkin had been coated in paint.

“but chucky.” Beverly whined as chucky slipped his hands under her armpits and carried her to the sink. Setting her on the counter, chucky pulled her hands under the water to wash off the paint. “Can I help carve the pumpkins?” Beverly stuck her bottom lip out and tried to make her eyes look as big as possible. Chucky kept his focus on the running water in front of him. I started to giggle, knowing he’d cave if he took one look at her.

“nope.” He said, voice wavering. “Not going to let you do that. Or look at you for that matter.” Beverly stuck her lip out further and chucky closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Picking Beverly up, he set her on the floor and patted her head. “Now run off and watch some tv.” Beverly looked at me and I shrugged.

“I have Charlie Brown if you want to watch that.” I offered, knowing how close chucky was to caving. Beverly’s face lit up and I nodded. “Go turn on the tv and I’ll be there in a minute.” Beverly nodded before running out of the room.

“ok now spill. What’s Beverly doing here?” Chucky asked, opening his eyes when he heard the tv turn on. “And why the whole weekend? Not that I’m complaining. I love her here. It’s just…” I nodded as I leaned out of the door to check on her quickly before hugging chucky.

“Sidney’s dad is in the hospital. She doesn’t think he’ll make it. After last year, Sidney didn’t want Beverly up there. Asked if we’d watch her for a bit.” I explained and chucky sighed. He nodded as he squeezed my waist. “I didn’t ask you since I figured you’d be ok with it. She couldn’t get a sitter on such short notice for an indefinite amount of time so…”

“She knew we’d be more than happy to do it. Yeah.” Chucky finished. “Beverly doesn’t know?” I shook my head. “Then we keep it that way.” Chucky kissed my forehead. “You know this is the one thing you never have to ask me about first. I’m always happy to spend time with her.” We stood there for a second before I heard Beverly call for me. “Better go set it up before she comes back and I let her wield a knife.” He teased as he gently patted me on the ass. I smirked at him before going and setting up the special for Beverly. “What’s the plan for Halloween then? Isn’t that tomorrow?” I nodded when I came back into the kitchen.

“I can take her out. It’s no big deal.” I shrugged as we started to carve the pumpkins. Chucky gave me a look and I started laughing. “Our we can take her.”

“we’ll take her.” He said with a smile. “She have a costume?” I nodded.

“Yeah some cartoon character she’s really into right now. And we’ve got the costumes from last year still. We can double up.” I suggested.

“that sounds fine.” He agreed. We fell into a comfortable silence as we continued to work on our pumpkins. “Feels awfully domestic doesn’t it?” Chucky looked up at me and smiled softly.

“Yeah it does.” I agreed. “Will feel even more so tomorrow.” Chucky nodded.

“probably will be the best Halloween we’ve had in a while.” Chucky smiled at me before we went about finishing the pumpkins.

[arosebyanyother-name]

Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 6

3907 words

cw: talk of pregnancy, miscarriage, violence, brief aleblist language and MAJOR season 3 spoilers

Second part of part 5

Hope everyone enjoys!!!

Over the next week your and the docs routines go back to relative normalcy, with the doc tending to his patients and the whores in town, to their relief, and you helping him as much as you can, making ointments, and accompanying him on his rounds. You find you never want to be away from him, now more than ever. The two of you spend nights together reading from his medical journals anything they say about pregnancy so you have a sound understanding of what’s to come, and the doc finally has his day in front of Mrs Bullock’s students. He wows them with his knowledge, and he wows you also. As you watch you can’t help hoping that you carry the baby growing inside of you to term, because it’s become crystal clear to you what a wonderful father Amos will be. You turn to Mrs Bullock, whom you’re standing next to behind the children’s desks.

“I’m with child,” you whisper to her, unable to hold the news in any longer. You just needed to tell one of your female companions, and Mrs Bullock seems the best choice seeing as she’s your only friend who has given birth. “And I’m sorry if I overstep any boundaries by telling you so.”

“You certainly do not overstep any boundaries. I’m delighted to hear you’re expecting,” she replies earnestly, taking your hand in hers. 

“Amos and I aren’t sure I’ll carry to term, but we’ll take whatever happens in our stride. I’m just happy we’ve gotten this far,” you say, and turn back to watch the doc. Mrs Bullock continues to look to you as tears prick at your eyes. A smile grows on your face. “I apologise for my emotions, seeing my husband teaching all these wonderful children just makes me so endlessly happy.”

“I understand completely (Y/N). Mr Bullock and I will be with you no matter what happens, I can promise you that... and if you don’t mind me saying, you’ll both make such wonderful parents,” she says, and you squeeze at her hand, unable to speak for the moment. Amos pauses his lesson for a few seconds when he notices your glistening teary eyes. You smile to him and mouth to him that you’re okay, so he continues. After his lesson Amos joins you at the back of the schoolhouse, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you close to him. 

“Why were you crying?” he whispers.

“Because you make me so happy, and because you’re going to make the most wonderful father,” you whisper back. When you look up into his eyes you can see tears starting to form. “You’ll make me cry again if you start crying.”

“We’d better get out of here then,” he says as you exit from the back of the school. You sit on the back steps with Amos, letting your legs rest, and tears begin to fall from his eyes.

“Oh Amos, tell me what you’re thinking,” you say, wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb. He takes your hand.

“You have any good memories from your childhood? I mean real good ones,” he asks, and you nod.

“I remember sitting on my mothers lap, and she’d be knitting and she’d sing to me, and I couldn’t have been more than four years old, yet I remember it like it were yesterday. It’s a golden memory, that’s what I call it, bathed in golden light,” you say pensively, smiling at the thought.

“I have this memory of my father, sitting in his lap also, out on the grass underneath this big maple tree, and he was reading to me... don’t these golden memories, as you call them, make you want to give the same to our child?”

“They do Amos.  I want to see you reading to our child, I want to sing to our child... I want to make our child as happy as these memories make me,” you reply, taking his hands in yours. “You know, Sofia told me,” you say.

“Told you what?” the doc asks, confused.

“When I was seeing to her for her mother she told me about when her family died and you took care of her. She told me that you sat in your cabin, shotgun in your lap, willing to defend her with your life if you had to... she didn’t say it in so many words, but I understood. I admire you so much for that, for protecting that vulnerable little girl, and I’m contented knowing you’ll do the same for our child.”

“During the war,” he begins, ignoring your flattery as he always does. “I saw a great number of atrocities; men with their limbs shot off screaming for their mothers, in unfathomable pain. I never thought I’d live through the war, I hoped I would, but I was almost sure I would not, then, coming here, I never thought for a minute I’d fall in love, or get married, have a wife, be a husband. I thought it would be me and my medicine for the rest of my life. Being a parent is something I could have only dreamed of, but never dared to for fear of disappointment... However this turns out, I’m just glad we tried, and that we have the chance to dream of our parenthood,” he tells you passionately, then leans over, kissing you through his tears, and laying a hand on your belly. He pulls away suddenly as Jane stomps out from the nearby restroom, making you jump. 

“What the fuck are you two perverts doing kissing outside the schoolhouse!?” she yells.

“Jesus Jane, keep your voice down! You’ll scare the kids!” you tell her in a harsh whisper. The doc wipes his tears and collects himself before turning to Jane.

“I just got done teaching a lesson,” the doc tells her levelheadedly. 

“Well, is Mrs Bullock just inviting anyone to give lessons now!?” she exclaims, more quietly now.

“We’re going to go now Jane,” you say, and the doc helps you to stand. “But you should come visit us for a meal or coffee when you feel like it, and when you’re less drunk... and bring Joanie too if you’d like,” you add.

“And why, in the fuck, would I bring Joanie!?” she asks as you begin to walk. 

“We can get into that another time. Nice to see you Jane.”

As the two of you begin your slow walk home, your arm interlaced with his, a big man walks up to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Mr Hearst would like to see you,” he says to the doc, then walks off again. You look to your husband, your eyes full of worry.

���I’m coming with you,” you say, already walking towards Farnum’s inn. Most everyone in town knows where Hearst lives.

“No you’re goddamn not, you’re going home,” he replies.

“I’ve heard some real bad things about him Amos, I mean he hacked one of Al’s fingers off for gods sake! I’m sure it will be better if I go with you, at least so you won’t be outnumbered.”

“Honey, it will be better if you go home. Men don’t tend to hurt doctors, but they may hurt their wives,” he tells you, his face and tone scarily serious.

“But he may be less likely to hurt anyone in a woman’s presence. I’m not leaving your side Amos, and you can’t persuade me otherwise,” you say as you come to the inn. The doc nods, seeing there’s no use in arguing with you, and just before you walk into the hotel lobby you spot Dan walking in the opposite direction towards the Gem. You grab him by his arm, getting his attention. “Tell Al the doc has been called to see Hearst, tell him we don’t know why, and that I’m with him.”

“And tell him not to do anything rash, just let him know,” the doc adds, and Dan rushes off, understanding the danger the two of you may or may not be in. Amos helps you up those goddamn awful stairs before knocking on Mr Hearst’s door.

“It’s open!” he yells, and when the doc opens the door you’re greeted by the large man who had called you there, whom you assume to be Mr Hearst’s muscle, and by Mr Hearst himself, who is lying on his back on the hard wooden floor. He turns his head to look at the two of you, and winces, looking from you to the doc a few times before letting his eyes linger on you.

“I’m Mrs Cochran,” you say, explaining yourself before a question has even been asked. “Don’t mind me, just get done what you need to get done.”

 The doc kneels down beside Hearst, placing his medical bag down.

“What seems to be the problem?” Amos asks, pushing his glasses up.

“My back. Can’t seem to get up,” Hearst says.

“Alright,” the doc replies and begins to feel around the man. You notice Hearst’s muscle’s hand reach for his gun, and you give him a warning look. Surely he wouldn’t shoot a doctor you think... surely. The doc helps to turn him on his side, and feel around his back rather vigorously. Hearst begins to yell out and the doc just tells him to be quiet. You love watching him work, to see his concentration and his care, or in this case his deliberate lack of it. “How long have you had this pain?” he asks Hearst.

“Long time, but it’s worse now,” Hearst replies, and the doc nods, rummaging through his medical bag.

“Alright, it seems to me you have a herniated disk,” the doc explains, pulling out a balm and a tincture from his bag. “I’m gonna rub this into your lower back to help with the inflammation, and then I’ll get you to take some of this for some quick relief,” the doc explains, holding both of the containers up for Hearst to see. “And I’m instructing you to start hot compresses made of hot grains wrapped in cloth from now on, not cold as I assume you’ve been told.”

“How long you been married?” Hearst asks, to no one in particular as the doc begins applying the ointment.  

“Couple months,” you both reply in unison, keeping your answers short. Your twin act makes Hearst smile despite the pain. It’s an extremely unsettling smile. 

“Do you find it emasculating, doctor, to have your woman follow you around, like a dog? To have your woman speak over you, as a dog would bark over you?” he asks, and the doc looks back to you, eyebrows furrowed, before replying. He knows your temper has been more explosive than usual since you became pregnant, and he wants to allay any outbursts. 

“My wife does not emasculate me, quite the opposite,” the doc replies, readying the tincture for Hearst, mixing it with water.

“You have such archaic views on marriage Mr Hearst,” you speak up, smiling. Keeping quiet, in your mind, would only prove that you are a submissive wife, something that you are almost never mistaken for.

“Do I offend you, Mrs Cochran?” Hearst asks before drinking the drug.

“What offends me is the thought of you thinking such an ordinary boring insult would offend me,” you reply. His words make you think back to your father, but Hearst doesn’t hold a candle to his verbal berating. “It usually, from my experience, works better when you at least address the person you are endeavouring to insult, for example, Mr Hearst, your widely circulated nickname, I guess we shall call it, the boy the earth talks to, takes on another meaning completely upon meeting you sir. It seems to me that dirt would be the only thing worthy of conversing with you.... Also, I might add, your thinking my being here would emasculate my husband says more about you, Mr Hearst, than anyone else in this room, and certainly tells me much more about you than I’m sure you’d wish it too. Who could have imagined that you, who has been boasted as being such a powerful bruit of a man, a Cesar, or a Napoleon of sorts, great dictator over all gold finds, could be emasculated so easily, by a little crippled thing like me,” you make fun of him as you speak, saying his name ironically, changing the pitch of your voice to mock him. Barely a moment has passed from when you stop speaking to you being shoved up against a wall by the large man, forearm to your neck. At least you’ve struck a nerve, you think, although you’re afraid again, the same as you were at the Bella Union. The doc jumps, turning to you again. If only you could keep your goddamn mouth shut. 

“Unhand her, right now,” the doc demands, voice deep and authoritative, and you can see he’s shaking from rage, and probably fear also. He stands, taking his medical bag in hand. “We’re leaving,” the doc tells the two men.

“You, girl, are too big for your goddamn boots. There are many things I can think to do with you, to you,” Hearst says, standing with a grunt. Your eyes begin to water, the pressure on your neck becoming stronger. You grab the mans clenched fist, digging your nails into him. Suddenly you hear a call from downstairs, and you recognise Dan’s voice immediately.

“Doc! You’re needed at the Gem! There is a critical situation with one of the whores!” Dan yells, and the doc grabs your hand from the mans fist, nails bloodied. The man turns to Hearst and Hearst nods, so the man promptly releases you, and the doc drags you quickly to and out the door. 

“Hearst you fuck! You fucking bastard! Can’t even hurt me your goddamn fucking self you fucking coward!” You yell in a rasp, breathing heavy as you stumble down the stairs and out of the inn, Dan following in step. The two men help you up the stairs of the Gem, practically carrying you into Al’s office, where they sit you down. The doc immediately begins to inspect your reddened neck, and you unbutton your dress, engorged breasts inadvertently spilling out. “Fuck,” you comment under your breath, and place an arm over your breasts to cover yourself before the doc removes his jacket, placing it over you. You’ll most definitely need to buy yourself some new dresses soon, if the pregnancy holds, but that’s the last thing you need to worry about right now. 

“I can never seem to keep my goddamn mouth shut,” you say in a whisper. 

“And what exactly did you fucking say?” Al asks, pouring a drink for him and the doc. The doc answers, explains how the altercation unfolded. 

“He’s a fucking pig of a man,” you say, and both Al and the doc down their shots.

“And he deserved everything you said to him, but you shouldn’t have goddamn said it, you... you put yourself in fucking danger,” the doc says, and Al hands you a handkerchief that you use to wipe your bloody hand. 

“What a phoney fucking bastard, but good on you for standing up to him. Seems you really got to the cocksucker,” Al comments. You nod to him in reply as a kind of thank you for his words, wiping away a few stale tears that had escaped against your will as a result of the strangling. 

“You fucking okay Amos?” you ask, taking his hand and turning to him from your seated position.

“You’re the one who was just fucking assaulted, how do you fucking feel?” he asks, his anxiety palpable. 

“Murderous, and sick to my fucking stomach,” you reply, and the doc places an affectionate hand on your abdomen. “Good thing you fucking called for us when you did. Thank you Al, truly,” you finally say as you begin to calm down. 

“You may like yours hot (Y/N), but I like mine cold. We’re waiting to retaliate till we have enough fucking men, otherwise it’ll be a bloodbath, and one sided too,” Al comments pensively.

“Should we get Sheriff Bullock?” the doc asks you, and you nod.

“If only to keep him in the loop,” you reply, and Al walks to the door, yelling at Johnny to go get Bullock. You move from your seat into the docs lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, and the doc runs his fingers through your hair affectionately.

“Don’t be goddamn sorry,” he tells you, and kisses your head. Suddenly Trixie bursts in, making you both jump. Your head shoots up to look at her.

“What the fuck happened!?” she asks, slamming the door behind her.

“What?” you asked, shocked that news can travel so fast.

“What!? Did I not just see you being dragged out of Hearst’s, previously fucking Farnum’s inn, hollering and the like!? Jesus Christ your fucking neck!” she yells, rushing over to you. 

“I’m okay, I’ll be okay,” you tell her, standing again. You know the doc doesn’t enjoy you being so affectionate to him in front of so many people. It makes him shy. A moment later Bullock walks in, Charlie Utter trailing behind him, and you take your seat again. “Some kind of party in here,” you say, trying to make a joke and lighten the mood, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Is it Hearst?” Bullock asks you and the doc. You nod in reply. “What would you have me do?”

“Well I did provoke him,” you say.

“He provoked you,” the doc replies.

“And I provoked him back, unfortunately,” you explain, and then there is another knock on the door.

“What!?” Al yells, and when the door opens you see both Merrick and Blazanov. “Could we fit any more people in this fucking room? Come in out of the fucking doorway then!” Al exclaims. You put a hand to your belly and close your eyes, trying to calm your nerves and endure a burst of pain that’s come over you. 

“I have a telegram for Mr Hearst you should see Mr Swearengen,” Blazanov explains as Dan and Johnny enter the room also, closing the door behind them. Al begins to read the telegram, and as he finishes, looking up to the room Jewel walks in, tray of food in her hands. 

“I brought you toast and eggs and bacon,” she announces, walking over to you. “Gee, you don’t look so good,” she comments, and when the doc turns back to you he notices how pale you’ve become. 

“Probably do need to eat something. Thank you Jewel, I fucking appreciate it,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours. 

“Hearst is bringing in reinforcements,” Al comments, looking up from the telegram. “It’s in my mind to just ambush the cocksucker tonight, feed him to Wu’s fucking pigs. I mean to attack a pregnant woman! What kind of-“

“Al!” you yell to him suddenly, reaching out for your husbands hand instinctually.

“What? Oh...” he replies, placing a finger over his mouth once he realises what he’s said. 

“You didn’t have to goddamn tell everyone Al,” you say, your voice quieter now. 

“Wait a goddamn minute, how the hell do you know (Y/N)’s pregnant?” the doc asks Al, glaring at him.

“I let it slip the night I came to the town meeting Amos, and in my defence Al promised to keep it to his fucking self,” you reply, also glaring at Al now. The doc reaches over to stroke your cheek, giving you a reassuring smile. Everyone in the room watches you and Amos in silence for a moment, noticing the way you lovingly gaze into each others eyes. For the two of you it’s a private moment, the others in the room temporarily transported out of it, but to everyone else it’s a moment of awkwardness or longing, possibly both.

“Anyways,” Bullock pipes up, pulling the two of you out of your trance. 

“Some of you need to get the fuck out of here, and I’m not talking about (Y/N) or the doc,” Al says, handing the telegram back to Blazanov. “Take it to Hearst,” he commands. Blazanov, Merrick, Jewel, Trixie, Dan and Johnny leave. “We’re gonna wait till we have enough men to make our move. I’ll send Dan to hire some guns, but until then Johnny’ll keep a lookout from your place,” he tells the doc. 

“I’ll take tonights shift,” Charlie says, suddenly alerting you to his presence in the room. “And congratulations, to both of you.”

“Thank you Charlie,” you tell him, and Amos turns, nodding his thanks to him. 

“We’d better go,” Amos says, standing, then helps you to your feet. With your cane in one hand and his in the other, your husband, yourself and Charlie walk out of the Gem and towards your house. “You’re shaking,” Amos says once you’re home, Charlie staying outside on his watch.

“Just... just cold I think, o-or it’s the adrenaline,” you reply as you sit at your dining table, dropping your cane down.

“Just sit there for a moment,” he says, walking off into his cabin. 

“Not like I can go anywhere fast,” you reply in jest. The doc locks all his doors so no one can get in, and grabs his shotgun and a blanket, laying the blanket over you once he’s back. You hold it over your chest, teeth chattering. 

“Would you like to leave here? Charlie could have a carriage ready in half an hour,” he asks, sitting beside you, and you shake your head quickly.

“I could never ask that of you,” you reply.

“I’m asking it of you,” he rebuts. “Do you want to go away? Do you want us to live somewhere safer?”

“No Amos. No. I’m a woman, and I’m a cripple, and anywhere I go men will find it extremely easy to take advantage of me... they always do... besides you’re needed here. We have friends here, we have a home. I don’t want to go anywhere, I want to stay here with you.”

“Alright honey,” he says, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Once this is over though, before the baby comes, I’d like to visit New York, see the opera, buy you some medical books, stay in a fancy hotel and be waited on. Can we do that Amos?” you ask, and he reaches out for your hand, which is shaking. 

“Course we can honey. Some leisure time away from here’ll be good for you,” he replies, and you stand, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and walking to him before sitting across his lap. 

“I really am sorry I spoke up today Amos. The last thing I want to do is cause you any more stress,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and looking into his eyes.

“You need to stop goddamn apologising. You said what needed to be said! Hearst it the one at fault, not you!” he tells you sternly, taking your face in his hands. “Eventually he’ll leave, and everything will go back to normal.”

“And we’ll be a family,” you add, and he kisses you good and hard. 

“We’re already a family,” he tells you, pulling away with one of those shy genuine smiles you love so much. 

[anarchy-n-glitter]

𝕸𝖆𝖉 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

Summary: Dr. Heather Winters is hired by CHAANK to give her professional opinion on a mystery patient. The kicker? She has two months to determine whether or not he's sane enough to be let out of the vault in the basement of the building - if he's determined unsafe he would be left to die. Even worse, what happens when she begins to fall in love with her mystery patient? (So, this is very Batman inspired. Does the plot make sense, no not really? Do I care, also no. Jack just reminded me so much of Joker I had to do this, sorry.)

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1

“He’s in there? My patient is in there?” The blonde woman breathed, absolutely flabbergasted after being led all that way down to the tenth vault in the basement of CHAANK headquarters. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was doing there, why she even accepted the job. She was a criminal psychologist, someone who could be helping others in the prison system or even helping in court cases (or, at least, that’s what she assumed - she was still new to this psychologist thing). Instead she was there, walking through dark hallways following the brunette CEO of the company. 

“It’s a long story, Dr. Winters.” The CEO, who went by Ms. Cale, as far as she knew, turned to face the doctor. “But you have a few months to learn everything about it.” She sounded irritated, and the doctor couldn’t help but ask questions - after all that was her job.

“You don’t sound pleased about me being here, why is that?” Dr. Winters asked, tucking her notebook under her arm. Cale rolled her dark eyes, though the doctor was sure it wasn’t at her, moreso at the situation. 

“Some people on the board wanted him alive, said we could fire him but we needed to let him out. I wanted him to rot after what he did. The board was split on the matter until someone mentioned getting a psychiatrist in here to make sure he wouldn’t kill us all. No offense, Dr. Winters but-”

“Please just call me Heather for now.” The blonde, Heather, breathed. The conversation was already rubbing her the wrong way. They really expected her to be judge, jury, and executioner. 

Cale smiled a tight lipped smile. “Heather, I don’t have faith in this. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I’ve read his file. To me, he’s better off in there.” It had only been a few days since the carnage he wreaked on CHAANK, and this was to be Cale’s last impact on the company. She had hoped everyone would agree with her when she said he should die in that vault. Heather looked up at the large, steel door under the blue lighting of the basement. Everything down there was a cool grey tone, mostly thanks to the blue lighting, but it set Heather on edge. She could easily lose track of time down there, and lose track of where she was. Not many people seemed to go down there, and she feared that if she did get lost no one would be able to help her find her way out. She wondered for a moment if the man behind the vault door knew his way around the basement, she wondered if he himself had gotten lost down there and they just closed the door on him.

“If my patient is behind this door how exactly am I supposed to interact with him? I find better results when I’m face to face with my patients.” Heather remarked, unable to hide her discontent with the situation. If there was one thing Heather and Cale could agree on it was their displeasure with the whole situation they found themselves in. 

“We have a way of letting you see and talk to him but you’re not permitted inside. He’ll be able to hear your voice, though.” Heather huffed at this. “Did you look over his file?” Cale continued. Heather shook her head.

“I haven’t been given access yet. Will I have an office? I’ll look over it as soon as I can get settled in and given access.” She promised, a bit more sincere this time. She wanted to help him, she really did, but so far the company was making it hard for her. She would try her best.

“They’re putting you in his old office.” That was a shock. Heather hardly had a chance to respond before Cale started walking in the opposite direction. She followed aimlessly, like a lost puppy. She followed her down the twists and turns, up an elevator, right to the engineering department. It was just as dark - if not darker - on that level. Heather looked around uneasily, wondering how the hell Cale seemed so calm and collected. Perhaps the events of the last few days hardened her in ways Heather couldn’t understand.

Men stood to the side, working silently while some stopped to leer at the duo. Heather scoffed, wondering how long it had been since they had last seen a woman, everyone down there seemed like they lived there. Sparks flew on either side of them, making Heather jump ever so slightly. She wasn’t a fan of things she felt could set her on fire. But hey, at least it seemed like they were hard at work.

Cale stopped before a wall covered in colorful graffiti, taking a deep breath and glancing at the smaller blonde beside her. Just to the side was a red, sliding door, which Cale pulled open to reveal a large, cluttered room. TVs were stacked along the wall and towering shelves were lined up around the room, making a sort of pseudo labyrinth of this mad man’s design. It’s not right to think that way just yet, Heather scolded herself. She knew nothing of Jack Dante, but from what she could see, her task was already quite daunting. 

“All his shit is still there, hopefully it’s enough for you to get a good idea of the man before you get his file.” Cale turned on her heel, ready to get the hell out of there and go home for the rest of the day. Ever since submitting her resignation letter she had been counting the days before she could get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t leave until Dr. Winters made her decision regarding one Jack Dante, who was still locked in Vault Ten, likely still thinking he was fighting for his life. She didn’t turn to look at the doctor as she spoke. “Knock yourself out.” 

Two months. Heather had two months to get some sort of idea of who Jack Dante was - what his psyche was like. So far, she had a sinking feeling. If he wasn’t deemed safe and sane enough to be let out they would simply let him die - or at least that was the vibe Cale gave off. Heather knew they would leave him to die - but somewhere deep down she hoped they would instead send him to a facility that could help him. She picked up an action figure from one of his many cluttered desks. She recognized the figure - it was one of the only characters she recognized - Batman. Clad in his black batsuit with his yellow emblem, he held his grapple gun. She found herself amazed that such a small accessory was preserved, despite the mess around the figure. Heather looked around, wondering if he had a Joker lying around somewhere too. 

She walked along the isles, looking at his various drawings and scribblings that were plastered along the shelves while still holding onto the little Batman, playing with the cloth cape between her fingers anxiously. The longer she looked at one drawing the worse her sinking feeling got. All fuzzy feelings she felt - any endearing qualities she might have picked up on - from looking at his action figures were washed away the longer she stared at his drawings. They were done with dark, almost violent, strokes scribbled all over the page, depicting naked women and other taboo subjects. Turning around, Heather caught sight of a wall full of pornagraphic photos of women in various poses and in various states of undress. 

A porn addict, clearly. Heather thought to herself as she stared in wonder and a sick sense of awe. On the table below the wall sat a pair of lacy panties, which she wished she never saw. She wondered if he had a girlfriend at some point or another, hoping for this hypothetical woman’s sake that he didn’t. She also hoped, that if there was never a girlfriend, that those were just panties he bought and were never stolen from some poor, unsuspecting woman. 

Moving on from there, she made her way to the stack of TVs along the back wall, and cautiously turned one on. It crackled and a white line flashed before the picture came on, and on its display was an old Tom and Jerry cartoon. She thought she learned her lesson the first time, but she found herself fighting the urge to smile again. It was endearing, even if this space reminded her of a teenage boy. 

Maybe he’s emotionally stunted? She wondered to herself as she moved to the next TV, pressing the power button to see if he had the same thing playing on each individual display. She let out a shocked gasp and jumped back as a video of a woman getting railed from behind came up on the TV, covering her eyes out of embarrassment and surprise. She quickly hit the power button, shutting off the TV as she shook off her discomfort. Note to self, stop smiling at things.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Heather’s hand shook as she set up her notebook, setting her pen (a pink glitter pen - she wanted to have a bit of fun despite how nerve wracking this experience had been so far) down beside the spirals binding her notebook together. She straightened her pen yet again, trying her best to make everything perfect - a nervous habit she picked up from her mother. She worried that if her pen wasn’t perfect something would go wrong and she would be responsible for a man’s death. As she went through school she began to suspect it was some form of OCD or anxiety tick. 

She worked much later than she had expected the night before, trying her best to clean up a corner of his “office” so she could keep her things there and sit at a table without feeling the urge to burn everything that came in contact with the surface. She went a little above and beyond though, even making her way to the old, stained mattress in the corner and trying her best to get the stink of sweat out of it, even putting on the fresh sheets she bought from the store when she stopped to get cleaning supplies. She was lucky she did, because after all she did that day she ended up accidentally spending the night when she passed out from exhaustion. When she woke up she realized he had no pillows and mentally wondered how often he actually slept - wondering if he had a home outside of that building. 

One of the engineers, Lou, had come down to help her with the video feed from Vault Ten, showing her how to speak to Jack and explaining each piece of equipment she needed to worry about. Lou was a large man standing at about six foot two with a muscular body and a bit of a gut - as if he needed to be any more intimidating. His hair was red and thinning, with a large bald spot in the middle of his head and stray grey hairs all throughout. He had kind green eyes that shone when she showed appreciation for his help. In some ways, he was reminiscent of Homer Simpson. 

Lou took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Need more help or do you think you’ve got it?” He asked in a thick Brooklyn accent. Heather shook her head, looking up at the man with a smile on her face.

“Nope, I think I’ve got it. I press this button to turn on the security feed from vault ten, then I just press this button to speak to him right?” She wanted to make sure she had it, but she was almost certain she did. Lou nodded.

“Yep, you’ve got it.” He chuckled, but there was something underneath his jovial facade. He seemed worried about something. “Do you need anyone to stay here and wait for you? I can wait right outside if you want.” Heather pondered his offer for a moment.

“Do you think you need to stand guard like that?” She asked, hoping her voice didn’t shake as much as her hands were. His words worried her more than anything. 

“I don’t know, all I know is this guy gave me the creeps when he worked up here with us. He was just bad news…” That wasn’t promising. “I have a daughter your age, I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t want him to have this place boobytrapped and have you stuck here with no one out there to help.” 

Heather smiled. 

“Then yes, please stick around.” She laughed. “You seem to have one up on me since you actually worked with this guy.” She watched as Lou’s expression changed, it grew more somber. 

“He was not a nice guy.” Was all Lou could muster. Jack Dante was not a nice man, he was closed off and short when speaking to others. He hardly offered help and was more concerned with whatever it was he did in his office all day and night. He hardly showered, and he seemed to think he was smarter than everyone else. He insulted people, and there were times when he got violent. Lou didn’t like Jack, but he didn’t think that was a good enough reason to sentence the man to death. He didn’t know enough about him to say he was pure evil, hell, he didn’t even really know why he was locked in that vault in the first place. 

Heather pressed her lips into a thin line as she stared at the blank monitor before her. In its reflection, she could see Lou brush past toward the door.

“I’ll be right outside. If you need anything give a shout and I’ll be there.” He reassured her, to which she could only nod in acknowledgement, before he shut the red door. 

She took a shaking, deep breath, and held it as she pressed the button on the remote beside her to turn on the monitor. It crackled and static filled the screen before focusing into the blue image of the man she presumed to be Jack Dante. 

He seemed exhausted, sitting on the floor leaning against the concrete wall. He had long black hair that came down below his shoulders and looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages. His eyes were closed and she watched his chest rise and fall as he took deep breaths. Was he hurt? She knew he was tired - he had to be - she was sure they weren’t giving him food or water while he was down there, and from what she understood it might have been actively dangerous to do so. 

Her hand shook as she reached for the intercom microphone and controls. She wasn’t even sure where to begin. Her words got caught in her throat and they felt as if they were choking her. All she could do was stare at the screen wide eyed. It was slightly easier to come to terms with having someone’s life in her hands when she couldn’t put a face to the name, but now…

He looked scared, even when trying to rest he looked terrified. She knew CHAANK was bad, everyone did after their war machine went haywire and killed a bunch of people, but she didn’t expect this. It looked like he had went through days of literal torture. She couldn’t do this. 

“Jack Dante?” His name felt like the easiest thing to start with, they were the only words that would come out. She prayed her voice sounded steady. His head jerked in the direction of the camera, as if he knew people had been watching him. His look of surprise morphed into one of dismay and confusion. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Charming, she thought to herself and she opened her notebook, flipping to a page filled with basic bullet points and notes. She had gone over his file while she took a break from cleaning that one corner of his office, and she took as many notes as possible. The more she read from his file the more daunting the task of trying to save him became.

Why are we trying to save him? She asked herself. After everything he’s done it seems like a lost cause.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” She reminded herself, muttering under her breath as she brought the mic closer to her again. “Mr. Dante, I’m Dr. Heather Winters, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He scoffed.

“They sent a shrink…” He murmured, though it was loud enough for the security feed to pick up on. “Hey, at least they didn’t send the cops.” He laughed darkly, and she found herself agreeing with him. From what she knew and could see, she was almost glad the cops weren’t called to come get him - he probably would have been shot and killed. Something about that thought made her feel uneasy.

Jack stood up and brought his fingers to his mouth, chewing on the nail and cuticle in focus as he began to pace. “If you’re talking to me that means the War Beast isn’t on anymore, right?” There was something urgent in his tone. Heather didn’t even know what the War Beast was.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about how you ended up here, Jack.” She changed the subject. Jack took a step forward, looking directly at the camera this time. 

“No, no. You’re gonna tell me if that thing is still after me.” He was starting to get aggressive, but she knew there was more to it than that. Something was after him and he was scared… he was alone…

“What thing?” She asked genuinely, and he scoffed in response. “No, they really didn’t tell me what was going on. Is something after you, Mr. Dante?” He paused for a moment.

“You really don’t know?” She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. He snickered to himself, putting his hands on his hips as he began to pace. “I created the thing… it was…” He laughed again, this time sounding more proud than before. “It was beautiful. A perfect killing machine. I worked so hard to make sure I got everything right…” He spoke so passionately about his project. Each word felt carefully picked, and she couldn’t help but notice the large smile that came to his face the longer he talked about it. 

“That bitch took the controls from me and locked me in here with it.” He finished, his expression growing dark at the memory. That was a good tangent to follow, she determined. 

“Who locked you in there with it?” He looked up at the camera again.

“Who do you think? The bitch, the one that hired you! Cale!” 

“I’m sorry.” Heather stated in a voice barely above a whisper. She watched as his demeanor changed from that of a caged animal to something more human. He relaxed, and in turn so did she. He smiled at the camera and she smiled back knowing the look was meant for her. 

“Hey, it’s alright, babe - sorry, doctor. I didn’t expect her to tell you how much of a fucking hypocrite she was. She’s been trying to kill me for two days straight now.” Jack snorted. He moved closer to the camera, staring up at it with gleaming eyes filled to the brim with curiosity and mischief. If only you knew Jack, the doctor thought solemnly. She wanted to tell him why she was really there - wanted to tell him the whole truth - but she feared what he would do if she did. 

Jack stopped for a moment, looking around for something to stand on. He wanted to be closer to this mystery woman, give her a good idea of who he was. He felt he was doing a good enough job already. He wished he could see her - she sounded hot. He loved how gently she spoke to him, sounding almost shy, but she still had that professional tone that most doctors had… it drove him nuts. 

In the corner there was a crate full of various mechanical parts (which he had ordered and never used). He dragged it over to the security camera and stepped on top, getting uncomfortably close to the lens. Heather jumped back slightly.

“I wanna see you.” He whined. 

“If you cooperate with me I can try and convince them to let you come to my office.” She offered, which brought a large smile to his face. He hopped off of the crate, pumping his fist excitedly.

“Yes! Sick! Awesome, I promise you won’t regret it dude. I’ll be good.” He stepped onto the crate again, and this time she felt like he was staring directly into her soul. “What do you want to know?” 

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

He was volatile, full of anger directed at a world he couldn’t control. He was passionate, but certainly seemed to have an affinity for the dangerous and deadly. His file had described him as having acute violent psychosis, and I could see some truth to that. Yet, the longer he spoke the more I realized he was nothing more than a lonely soul crying out for love and acceptance. He was a lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics - and much to my dismay he had succeeded quite a few times at making me laugh at his crude jokes. I still don’t think I’m the best person to have on this case, I am, unfortunately, a bleeding heart, and I’m human. He told me about his past, growing up lonely and without much guidance, and deep down I felt there was something in him that was worth saving. He made me want to reach through the screen and comfort him, to pull him into some sort of embrace to let him know he wasn’t alone. 

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

*wipes the cobwebs off* HI!

So a lot has happened in nearly a tear; Quit my first job, got a second job and was promoted 2 months in, my brother was really sick and being autistic, dcf got involved, I'm nearly finished talking the GED and I'm looking for a second job so I can get my own place. Being a grown ass woman living at home is nothing I'd wish on anybody.

But... the writing itch I'd back.

I got so busy trying to accomplish goals that I forgot about down time and self care. That's why I'm back here.

Writing takes away my panic, anxiety and the ability to dissociate (thanks, Trauma). I need to get back to what I love, and writing is what I love. This year marks 20 years that I've been writing, come December. I'm not giving that up because I have this fucked up part of my brain that says I need to be at this point by this age. Writing is my therapy.

So, that being said... I'll be back to writing again and taking requests!

Expect a LOT of Brad Dourif and Jack Nicholson, bc they are Daddy af.

[streets-in-paradise]

Untill Death Tear Us Apart - Andy Barclay x (fem) Reader/ Chucky x (fem) Reader

Masterlist

Word Count 2 K

Warnings: Chucky playing family in a slightly reminiscent way to Curse. The family dynamic of the reader and her kids is inspired on alternative!Wanda with Tommy and Billy on Multiverse of Madness. Also, I am not paying any attention to the timelines and just writing what occured to me. 

Summary: Andy and Kyle arrive to your house to find a scene that doesn’t match with anything they have seen before. Your sons have a Chucky and he found a way to include you in their playing. 

Notes: This sorta includes some Andy and Chucky fighting over the reader into the tension of a Chucky Season 1 hunting scene. 

Tags: @losersclubisms​

" There he is, my husband!" You cheered as one of the twins brought the red haired doll to the living room. 

The government people interviewing you seemed very weirded by that description. They didn't know it was part of a game you used to play with your kids. The therapist said it was normal and you treated it as a coping mechanism to deal with grief, so you carried along with it. 

The doll was placed in your lap to continue, your son said Chucky preferred it that way. 

" The boys like to play a game where I am married to their favorite doll. " You tried to explain, provide context because the reactions were uncomfortable to stand. 

They were looking at you like you were crazy and you wouldn't blame them. The woman at least, because the man was too busy directing hateful glances towards the doll for some reason. It was very unusual, considering how exquisitely nice he was with you all the time before. 

" Then we should list him as head of the house. " The blond lady joked, kindly following the game. " Name? " 

" CHUCKY!!" The boys answered her, both at once. 

" Should we count him as married?" 

Kyle was doing the smartest thing, delaying the moment of the confrontation to figure more things out. The presented anomaly was worthy of being investigated a bit further. In no other house they have visited before there was a Chucky showing such closeness with a parent. 

" Yes, the kids made us a marriage ceremony and everything. " You playfully confessed to her what you saw as a mere cute anecdote about your kids' occurrences. " Chucky says that we are together until death tear us apart. " 

" He doesn't believe in divorce. Doesn't he?" 

You thought that those strange phrases the kids would come up with had to be with the close experience of death in their lives. Death tore you and their father apart, so they imagined Chucky would say that to symbolize he would never leave because he can't die. 

In fact, It meant that your life depended of his amusement. 

" He likes to sleep in mommy's bed, we let him so she wouldn't feel lonely. " One of the boys continued. " Husbands must sleep with their wifes." 

" They come up in the middle of the night when I am asleep and place him beside me. I discover him when I wake up and most times it freaks me out a bit. These two pranksters insist on saying that Chucky climbs to my bed on his own." 

Playing dad to manipulate the children was one thing, but the described behavior was far beyond that. Neither Kyle or Andy had a clue on why you were still alive. 

Why was he seeking chances to be alone with you if he wasn't trying to kill you?

What they didn't know was that Chucky got to like your lovely family and he liked you. His initial plan was the usual, but it changed when he realized that he enjoyed playing family among you. The twins adored him and you were a great mother, a beautiful woman and a loving wife to the man you once were married to. 

Instead of manipulating your kids into killing like he was supposed to, he attempted to possess your husband so he could take his place. The unnecessary struggle presented complicated things and he had to kill him. It left him unfortunately stuck on the doll body, doing a few killings here and there to keep himself entertained while waiting for you to develop the slightest glimpse of a crush on someone whose body he could steal. 

After many months having you only through the games of your sons, he finally heard your silly laugh of embarrassment coming out while talking with a man and he couldn't believe who he was. 

Why it always had to be him fucking things up? Andy freaking Barclay, the mistake of fate that grew up to become the greatest pain in his ass. He was there to stop him and, not satisfied with that, he was also being way too friendly with you.

" We love Chucky and he loves us. " A childish voice defended him. " He likes when mommy sings for us, so we sing for him." 

The children were about to make one of their cute numbers, but you sweetly cut them off. 

" There is no time for that. Our visits are working and they need to get to tons of other houses in time. " 

" If it depended of me, I would stay all afternoon." Andy glanced at you as sweetly as the situation allowed him to. " Your mom is a wonderful host and she makes delicious coffee." 

" Pass by anytime and I will bake something for you to have with the coffee. A pie, brownies. " 

" Chucky likes your cookies. " Your son insisted, what you understood as himself asking for cookies. 

" Yes sweetheart, but we don't know what our guests prefer. " 

Chucky observed you long enough to know that was a sign of interest and, considering how suddenly confident Andy was showing himself, it was probably mutual.He was very pissed off, ready to jump over that little man as soon as the situation would allow him to. 

' I like to be hugged' The recorded voice said while accidentally activated, or at least you guessed so. 

" Owww, isn't he the cutest thing ever? They don't make dolls this cute anymore. " 

Kyle was too confused at that point. Were her brother and the doll competing for your attention as part of their tension build up before a fight? That would at least explain one of their doubts. It was hard to remember he wasn't just some superstrong doll, there was a crazy man inside that could be enjoying keeping you alive for a while because he wanted you. 

Keeping you and the kids safe was a priority, but Chucky was secure in the position he adopted so a clean shot would be impossible. Since that was how he wanted to play, Andy was more than willing to keep the bickering going because he had the upper hand.

 He was a man in his own body, your attention was on him. He was talking to you, making you smile... Perhaps at the edge of getting a date? There was nothing Chucky could do about it without revealing himself to you, what would make you release him in shocked horror and into a good spot to open fire. 

Death would have to tear you apart, but he was going to bring it to Chucky before the doll could get bored and bring death to you. 

[murderdaddymayhem]

Domestic Life With Charles Lee Ray Headcanons

Requested by anon!

Charles is very lazy around the house, so you're always reminding him to pick stuff up, do his dishes, do the dusting

You two have squabbles all the time over little things like who gets to clean the dishwasher tonight, or who rearranged that porcelain doll your mother gave you

"It was ugly, babe! I don't wanna stare at it all day!"

"Need I remind you of how ugly YOU were as a doll?!"

"You-- I thought you said I was a fuckin' cutie pie!"

"I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS!"

At the end of the day, you two always make up, usually with Charles coming to you first with a mopey mumbled sorry. He can NOT hold a grudge, and absolutely hates thinking you're mad at him

He loves it when you cook for him. His favourites, of course, are Swedish meatballs and chocolate chip cookies, and ever since that ONE heated argument, he always does the dishes after you make dinner

Make-up sex is a big thing, and he'll want to do it all over the house. Charles has fucked you over the kitchen counter, the dining room table, the couch, the walls in every room, the bed of course, the basement, the bathroom sink, the shower, and he's working on getting you on the front porch

Sometimes Charles will just sit and stare at you as you walk by doing domestic things around the house. He can't believe how lucky he got to find someone who puts up with his annoying shit

You two have lots of lazy days together, sitting on the couch and laying on each other watching movies. You love showing him all the old black and white horror films, since he used to trash them. Now he loves them

The neighbours all think you're married, but the truth is, Charles doesn't like the idea of marriage much. He's just happy being with you and letting that be that

Kisses all day. You've made a game out of it-- you try and surprise him with kisses randomly. It's so funny watching how irritated he gets when he walks out of the bathroom and you pounce from a hiding spot, kissing him on the cheek then running.

One day, he just grabs you back before you can get away and gives you a proper kiss, which leads to making out. Which leads to floor sex.

Charles doesn't like pets, but when you get a fish, he names it Angry Death Machine and now calls the fish his son, his pride and joy.