#child's play fanfiction

[triptuckers]

switching teams - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hi there! Could I request an enemies to lovers! trope, where the reader is part of the ares halfgods." Pairing:  Percy Jackson x ares!reader Summary:  percy should know better than to try and fight an ares kid Warnings:  a lot of swearing lol, fighting, mentions of blood & injuries Word count:  1.9K A/N: can't wait to see more of dior as clarisse in the show she's such a good actress. thanks for your request, enjoy!

ever since percy got to camp a couple of years ago he's had it out for you. you don't know why, but naturally you decided to respond with the same energy.

he wants to test the ares kid's patience? fine by you.

for some reason he's always arguing with you and you're all to happy to argue back. somehow he knew exactly which buttons to press, how to get on your nerves.

there's always tension between the two of you, which reaches a high during war games like capture the flag. this time is no different.

you're part of team red, following clarisse's lead. percy is on the blue team.

not that it matters, your team is unbeatable. you're proud of your cabin for coming up with the best strategies. you and clarisse always draw up new battle plans, surprising the blue team whenever they think they cracked your plan.

and today you're going to win again. you know it.

you've been walking through your part of the forest, getting rid of any kids of the blue team you run into.

after a while, you think they've all said to each other to avoid certain parts of the wood, given that you don't see anyone for a while.

then you hear talking in the distance. smiling, you grip your sword tighter and creep closer to them.

'let's move, c'mon, these are y/n's parts of the woods.' says one of the kids. you recognise him as someone from the hermes cabin.

'right about that.' you say, jumping over a fallen log and blocking their path.

all three kids widen their eyes and you quickly count their weapons and cabins. two from the hermes cabin and one from athena. a combined total of three swords and a spear. you'll need to take out the athena kid first, they might be able to analyse your fighting style if you're not fast enough.

'I told you!' says one of the hermes kids as you charge them.

you were right, you can tell by the way the athena kid's eyes follow your movements they're trying to analyse your moves. but you catch them off guard and give them a hard shove after kicking one of their legs to the ground.

you make quick work of the hermes kids just in time for your team to run past, carrying the blue flag. you grin at sherman when he runs past with the flag.

'you know what to do!' he says with a wink.

you nod and take off. you're the best sprinter and best swordsman of your cabin.

the plan was simple. once your team got the flag, they would run through your favorite parts of the woods. you would hear them, join them and then run ahead of them, getting rid of any blue team kids in your way and clearing the path for your team.

so that's exactly what you do.

you run to the river, getting rid of any blue team kids you see.

when you see the river in the distance you can't help but to feel a sense of pride. you won again.

but before you can reach the river, something hard knocks you on your back.

before you can get up, someone appears above you, pointing his sword at you and smiling. it's percy. this fucking kid.

you lash out with your sword but percy is quick to block your blow.

'got ya!' he says.

'no you don't.' you say.

he may be pointing a sword at you, but you're not defenceless. with one swift motion, you kick percy's legs, sending him to the ground.

you're quicker, rolling over and pinning his hands to his side. there's no room for him to kick you with his legs.

percy's fighting to get his sword but this time you're stronger. this time, you smile.

'you need to be quicker.' you say. 'and you need to understand we will always win capture the flag.'

'we can still win.' percy argues.

'no, you can't.' you say. 'you're the strongest swordsman on your team. and I've got you pinned to the ground.

'so you admit I'm a stronger swordsman than you!' says percy.

'I said on your team.' you say.

you look up when you hear people cheering in the distance. your team has reached the river, with the blue flag.

'looks like we win again.' you say.

percy looks annoyed. 'get off me, the game is over.'

'say please.'

'fuck off.'

'say please and I'll get up.'

percy rolls his eyes and sighs. 'please, y/n, will you get off me?'

'because you asked nicely.' you say, pushing up off the ground, making sure to accidentally put your weight on percy's legs.

without looking at him again, you take off to celebrate the win with your team.

the next time you're playing capture the flag is three weeks later. you're excited to keep your winning streak going.

just as you've finished putting on your armour and checking all of your weapons, you see percy putting on a chest plate with a red mark on it.

'hey!' you say, getting his attention. 'you're not on our team.'

'yes I am.' he says. 'I already talked it over with clarisse.

'no the fuck you didn't.' you say.

'y/n!'

you look over your shoulder and see clarisse looking at you. she's your best friend, you always train together and she's a great team captain. but this?

'he's on our team.' she says.

'why?'

'because you two are the best swordsmen at camp. it's the logical choice for capture the flag. work together.'

'I will not-'

'not up for discussion. he's on our team, deal with it.'

you turn to percy, walking up to him and giving him a look of pure malice. 'just because you're on our team does not mean I won't hesitate to fight you.' you say.

'no maiming. no killing. especially not your own team members. those are the rules.' says percy.

'I don't care.' you say. 'don't get in my way.'

you hear percy mumble 'fucking ares kids' as you walk away to get into position before the game starts.

as soon as the starting signal sounds, you head to your favorite spot in the woods. there were always some blue kids who thought they could get lucky, but they always run into you.

you're waiting there, your eyes on the path, when you suddenly hear footsteps behind you.

you're just in time to turn around and block the other person's blow.

'you!' you say as you recognise the eyes looking into yours.

'me.' says percy.

'I'm on your fucking team you idiot!'

'I recall you saying it didn't matter.'

'piss off!'

'no.'

percy takes on a fighting stance. he better be fucking kidding. he wants to fight? fine. you can give him that.

'I want to teach you how to become better.' he says.

'at what?'

'sword fighting.'

that's it. it's one thing to attack you from behind. another to tell you he wants to teach you how to be better.

percy knows it's bad fucking luck to claim he's better at fighting than an ares kid. but you've got a tell, and it will get you killed some day.

'you have a tell. let me teach you how to avoid it.'

the nerve he has.

with two quick strides you're in front of him, bringing your sword down on him with all of your strength.

percy blocks it, but his arms are straining underneath the weight of your blow. you really are good.

he swings his sword to your left side but you jump aside and aim the next blow at his legs. he jumps over your sword and kicks you out of the way.

you spin around and attempt to drive your sword through the exposed part of his arm. percy gets out of the way, but only barely.

'you're using your father's strength to guide you.' he says, grunting in between blows of your swords hitting each other.

you don't respond, choosing to save your strength and focus on trying to hit him.

'you're faster than me. you could win.' he says.

fuck him. you are going to win. how dare he question you like this? how dare he question your fighting skills?

you take a step forward, ready to end this fight. but percy kicks your leg out of the way and pushes you, sending you backward.

'you step before you strike.' says percy. 'with your right foot.'

what the fuck?

'I have to give it to you, it took me a while to realise it.'

'been watching me, have you?'

you start to circle him, looking for an opening to strike.

'yes. now start avoiding the step before you strike.'

'I don't need a poseidon kid to teach me how to fight. you're doing this to distract me.'

'is it so hard to believe I actually want to help you? clarisse is right, we'd make a good team. you're almost as good as I am.'

'I can never be a team with someone who insults me to my face.'

'right. never claim to be a better fighter than an ares kid. noted.'

you race forward and strike percy, hoping he doesn't expect it.

he does. he easily blocks your attack.

you're furious. no one is better than you. certainly not percy.

you let your rage take over, going in for another attack, subconsciously taking one step before striking. percy kicks your foot.

you're breathing heavily. he wants to teach you? fine. you keep your footing in place as you strike, catching him off guard.

percy is too surprised and is too late to block your blow. you slice through his upper arm. it's not a very deep cut but it still bleeds. you smile as you see the blood start to slowly trickle down his arm.

you strike again, but only nearly hitting him. you can teach him as well. for instance, his weak point is his legs. you sweep them out from under him. percy falls to the ground as you point your sword to him.

'you're beaten.' you say.

'and you listened to me.' he says.

you hate to admit it, but he did have a point. once you focused on not taking a step before striking, you were able to beat him.

you reach out with your other hand.

percy is eyeing your hand suspiciously.

'I'm pulling you up.' you say. 'the fight is over. I won. I'm not striking an unarmed, beaten opponent.'

percy takes your hand and allows you to pull him to his feet.

'thought you didn't like me.' he says.

'I never said that. you annoy me. but ares kids respect good fighters. you're a good swordsman. and you were right. I have a tell.' you say.

'did you just admit to liking me?' says percy, smiling.

'I also said you're annoying.'

'but you like me.'

'doesn't make you less annoying. now come on, we have a flag to capture.'

the two of you take off to rejoin your team. during the fight, something had changed between the two of you. if percy could point out a flaw you didn't know you had, you're curious to see what else he knows about you that you don't know about yourself.

maybe it's a good thing he convinced clarisse to let him join your team.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Are they ass, tits or thigh’s for Vincent Sinclair and Charles lee ray (seperetly) with fem reader

It can be as filthy as you want

Ooooooooo okay! This is definitely going to be fun! Alsoooo this is my first time writing for Charles lee ray!! I'll try not to disappoint

Warning: NSFW! violence, bad language, kidnapped, Stockholm syndrome, just evil slasher men lol, mature themes/content. 18+, filthyyyyy👀👀 nastttyyyyyy

Vincent Sinclair

Vinny is an everything man. He loves you for you buuuuuut if he did have to pick a favorite its probably a tie between your thighs and breast.

Vincent enjoys holding your thigh when he sits beside you. He will consistently grip your thighs and rub his thumb across your smooth skin. Now when you two are alone Vincent loves to kiss up and down your thighs, occasionally nipping at your skin.

When it comes to your breast Vincent loves to grope them. He loves how soft and squishy they are under his rough hands.

He will definitely suck your breast hard, leaving hickeys all over your chest. He enjoys playing with your nipples and seeing how you gasp when he tugs on your nipples with his teeth.

Secretly this man is very kinky. He very much enjoys sitting on top of you, ripping your T-shirt off to reveal your soft chest. He'll pin your arms above you head but if you move he is quick to tie them down with a rag. Once your hands are out of the way he'll grab one of the many candles within his room and drip the hot wax onto your delicate breast, down your stomach, and on your inner thigh.

Vincent loves to fuck your breast, he enjoys the softness and loves to look down at you, watching you please him in such a way turns him on even more.

When you two are having sex, Vincent loves to have your legs on his shoulders. He loves gripping onto your thighs and having the options to bite and kiss them while he thrust into you.

Vincent also loves to use your thighs to push himself deeper into you. And trust he loves pushing your legs above your head thrusting deeper into you, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure.

Vincent tends to forget how tight he holds onto your thighs and breast so at the end of the night you are typically left with a couple finger prints and bruises.

Vincent loves it when you go bra less, its easier for him to run his hands up your shirt and tug at your breast but it's definitely hard to keep his attention for all of it goes to your freed breast.

His favorite position is cowgirl; He loves watching your breast bounce up and down while he rubs your thighs, occasionally gripping them hard enough to leave marks. He also loves to warm his cock within you as he sucks your breast but trust he wont leave the other one unattended, his hand will quickly tug at your nipples and grope at your breast. Then he will switch after a few minutes now sucking on the one he was tugging at and now rubbing the one he was sucking.

It drives him crazy when you wear shorts or skirts and v-neck shirts or shirts that just showoff your breast.

Vincent also gives the best massages, he has no problem rubbing your legs and thighs. And hey he'll massage your breast too

Charles Lee Ray

Charles Lee Ray has to be an ass guy!

I'm pretty sure this man would take anything you give him but in booty we trust.

He constantly slaps and gropes your ass daily

If you are wearing a skirt or a dress he has no problem hiking the skirt up to grab your bare ass or just see it in your black panties.

Very much prefer you wear thongs he loves having easy access.

This man loves back shots! He enjoys gripping onto your waist and slapping your ass as he slams himself inside you.

One of his many favorite positions is reverse cowgirl, he loves watching your beautiful ass bounce up and down on his cock.

Charles loves anal, he loves how tight your ass is and enjoys the sweet moans and groans to make as he takes his time sliding into you.

Will eat you out any day of the week and trust he loves leaving bite marks on your ass and enjoys feeling you tremble underneath him as his licks up your valley. (you know exactly what I'm talking about)

Charles loves to punish you, mainly spanking you. He loves watching how your ass jiggles with each slap. He also loves seeing how red your ass can get, he thinks its pretty seeing his hand prints left behind on your soft skin.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you guys enjoyed and I hope I didn't disappoint with Charles Lee Ray I really did enjoy writing for him! Thank you tons for the request! <3

[blackenedsnow]

Hey! Could you do Chucky interacting with an autistic little girl? If you're not comfortable that's fine 🖤

unlikely friend

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Chucky & (Fem) Autistic! Reader

NOTE: Hey! I’m autistic, too, and I wanted to make this story as realistic and respectful as possible when it comes to portraying autism. The reader in this story has some traits and behaviors that I do, and I hope it comes across in a way that feels authentic.

SUMMARY: What begins as an odd encounter turns into something almost… protective.

Chucky wasn’t used to kids like this. Usually, he could get into their heads easily enough—scare them, manipulate them, whatever he needed to do to get what he wanted. But this one? You were different.

He stood in the middle of the living room, eyeing you sitting cross-legged on the floor. Your eyes were focused on a toy train you were spinning in circles, the faint hum of the wheels scraping against the wood floor filling the air. Every few moments, you'd let out a soft hum, completely absorbed in your own little world.

“Hey,” Chucky said, trying to get your attention. He wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by a kid. Most of them either screamed or laughed when they saw him.

You didn’t respond, your focus still entirely on the toy in your hands.

Chucky narrowed his eyes. “Kid, you deaf or something? I’m talking to you.”

Nothing. No flinch, no acknowledgement that he was even there. He stepped closer, his little shoes making soft tapping sounds on the floor as he approached. When he was only a few feet away, he stared at you, his gaze narrowing.

He’d seen you around before—you lived in this house, though your parents were usually too busy to notice much of anything. But this was the first time he’d been alone with you. You didn’t seem scared of him, which was odd. Kids were usually afraid of dolls that moved on their own.

"Hey, you hear me?"

This time, you paused, your fingers stilling as you let go of the train. Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes flicking toward Chucky. But instead of fear or surprise, there was just a blank stare, like you were looking through him instead of at him.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice quiet, but direct.

Chucky raised an eyebrow. "Name’s Chucky. You know, the killer doll? Maybe you’ve heard of me? In the newspaper? Online?"

You blinked once, twice, then looked down at the train again. "I don’t like dolls."

Chucky scowled. "Great, I don’t like kids. Guess we’re even."

There was a pause as you resumed spinning the train, the rhythmic motion and quiet sound filling the silence between you. Chucky wasn’t sure what to make of you. He was used to scaring people, getting them riled up or terrified, but you? You were a complete mystery.

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to figure out what your deal was. Your movements were repetitive, your fingers fidgeting with the train, and every now and then you'd make that soft hum again, like you were calming yourself down or keeping yourself occupied. He’d seen this kind of behavior before, back when he was alive—some kids just did things differently.

"You always do that?" Chucky asked, nodding toward the toy in your hands.

You didn’t look up. "It helps me think."

"Think about what?"

"Everything," you said simply. Then, after a moment of quiet, you added, "It feels good to spin things. Makes the world quiet."

Chucky was silent for a beat. The world quiet, huh? He wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he understood the idea of needing things to be a little less chaotic sometimes. Hell, he’d spent enough time in chaos to know when you needed a break from it.

"So, you’re not scared of me?" he asked, changing the subject, though part of him was genuinely curious.

You glanced at him again, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him. "You’re a doll."

"Yeah, but a dangerous one."

"You don’t look dangerous. You’re small."

Chucky let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Size doesn’t matter. Trust me."

You didn’t seem too concerned, though. Instead, you set the train down and started rocking slightly where you sat, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt now. Chucky noticed your eyes darting around the room, unfocused for a moment before they settled back on the floor.

"It's loud," you muttered softly, more to yourself than to him.

Chucky frowned. There wasn’t much noise in the house—no TV blaring, no loud music—but you seemed bothered by something. He watched as you started to rock a bit more, your movements a little faster now, like you were trying to block something out.

"You... alright?" he asked, his voice unusually calm for once.

You nodded, but the rocking didn’t stop. "Sometimes there’s too much noise. In my head. I don’t like it."

Chucky wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He wasn’t exactly the comforting type, but something about the way you were reacting tugged at something inside him.

"You want me to... turn on the TV or something?" he asked, feeling a little out of his element.

"No," you whispered, "too loud."

He grumbled under his breath but stayed quiet for a moment, watching your movements slow down slightly. You were calming yourself, little by little. Chucky wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t feel the usual urge to scare or mess with you.

After a few minutes, you stopped rocking and looked at him again, your expression more relaxed. "Do you like spinning things?"

Chucky blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, I don't know."

You hummed softly again, then picked up the train and spun it once more. "It’s okay. Not everyone likes the same things."

There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact—that made Chucky pause.

"Yeah," he muttered, "guess you’re right."

For the rest of the afternoon, Chucky stayed in the living room, watching you continue to spin your toy and hum quietly to yourself. It wasn’t the kind of company he was used to, but he had to admit—there was something almost... peaceful about it.

[msneedful-ispleaseful]

Charles Lee ray (human Chucky) with a reader who is the opposite of Tiffany but he falls in love with her? You can choose the genre

Charles used to go for the crazy chicks, the ones who couldn't judge him because they had the same sick thoughts and desires to commit the horrible actions that he did. That's how he originally ended up with Tiffany, she was a firecracker, striking and bold, when Tiffany loved, she loved hard and did all she could to gain his approval but, despite her ruthless actions, she over time, began to judge him t, she began to crave change, a positive one, Charles disagreed, hence why he wasn't with her in his bed now.

Instead, a year ago now, he met you, the woman lying by his side, unlike his usual taste, was sweet, she volunteered at the public library during the summers, she visited the local daycare to help children with learning disabilities, and works as a therapist for teenagers, she was a family woman, craved children who would have an even better father.

She even spoke out against gruesome acts, how did they get together? Charles Lee Ray members the day he met you as if it happened hours ago.

Charles took a sharp inhale from his cigarette before tying his hair up, keeping the smoke in his lungs before exhaling he dropped the cancer stick onto the pavement and walked inside the coffee shop, he came in about once every two months and silently robs the cashier, he's been doing this for so long that it doesn't even cause a ruckus, but this time, he was standing behind a young thing, wearing a sinfully tight dress.

He taped your shoulder causing you to look over, but before he could ask you to move your smile beamed, and he, for the first time since he left Tiffany, felt a pull in his heart. That familiar feeling is what made him falter, it's what made him engage in conversation, over time he realized just how much you two truly didn't align.

But, your love and care for him made him want to hide his ugly traits from you, for the time being, at this time, it was carnal for him to go about these acts, but with you, right now, in his arms, he didn't need any of that, just you and your acceptance of him.

[g0thic-ghost]

Slashers ! With a plus-size S/O.

A/N: Hello! I’m back, after months due to my work life; apart from that, I wanted to make a comeback with a new writing in hand. Also, this writing has a reader with a non-aimed gender, so perceive it how you’d like.

Characters being ‘used’: Bubba Sawyer and Tiffany Valentine.  Warning ⚠️ : Not proof read

REQUESTS : OPEN

Bubba Sawyer 

Bubba was always fond of your figure ; He admired the softness of your skin, enjoying the feeling of his hands squishing on the bumps of your skin. You would catch him constantly touching up on your stomach, waist, hips, and anything his hands could cup.

He believed that your figure was the embodiment of beauty. He didn’t see any part of you to be flaw, just a perfection sculpted right onto you.

If you were ever able to complain about how you look, he instantly disagrees with your comments. Squealing and whining his opinion on the subject ; In the end, he ends up winning with you in his arms, feeling as his hands rub you gently with reassurance.

Bubba likes that he can share one aspect of himself with you ; He himself being chubby, makes him comfortable with you also being chubby. So, he’s happy to be able to relate to you.

Bubba always makes an effort to satisfy your food cravings, when you have them. Whenever you make a comment on something being good, expect to be showered in that exact item for weeks. 

Tiffany Valentine

Tiffany finds your figure absolutely stunning ; She constantly showers you with compliments, always making sure that when she crosses your path she gives you a loving comment.

Tiffany loves to give you gifts. Most of them consisting of dresses/suits, shoes, beautiful gem jewelry and so much more ; She’s a big fan of the catwalks you do when you’re showing her how you look in certain clothing. 

Tiffany is never ashamed of being overly touchy, she tends to always have her hands on you. Either running her hands through your hair, or squishing at your cheeks. She finds the face you make to be adorable

Absolutely loves cuddling ; She’s always the first one to recommend it, she tends to always pry at you. Not wanting to let go as she finds the feeling calming and relaxing.

Early on, she finds out that you’re a big fan of sweets; So she always makes her efforts to make some baked goods, even if they sometimes do come out with imperfections.

[xanandhix]

///File 1129 spoiler

I just realized it but doesn’t the Heichi character name is kinda a HeiShin ship name? His name is 平一 where 平 is the first character of Heiji’s name and 一 is the second character of Shinichi’s name. It’s probably just a pun replacing the 次 (second place) with 一 (first place) similar to Kogoro’s character name change but it’s really funny to imagine Momiji accidentally name a character after HeiShin ship name.

[warmiesstuff]

POV: chucky's dumbass tries to kill you

12:00 AM

Trying to get sleep was what you were planning to do until you heard a loud CRASH coming from the hallway. Now, the thing is you usually wouldn't be startled by the noise, your roommates (the rats) tend to be loud as it is. But the thing is you had bought this creepy ass doll from some dude off the street for your nephew. You slowly climbed out of bed, grabbing the baseball bat behind your door because mama ain't raised no bitches. Every step to the kitchen was like waves of anxiety drowning you. Slowly, you inched your way into the kitchen as you heard some weird voice.

"that bitch is so stupid"

Okay that was just uncalled for. Walking into the living room, you swear you almost just died here and saw Jesus himself because you saw that creepy ass doll, STANDING AND LOOKING AT YOU.

WITH A KNIFE.

"rAuuGhHh"

Suddenly this bro started charging at you. You were scared until- wait.. this bro short as fuck😭 you grabbed your bat and swinged it at the little oompa loompa.

"OW!! YOU BITCH!!"

A rather rude oompa loompa to be exact. Yeah you're not about to deal with this shit. You grabbed the bat and started banging it against his head until unconscious♥️

You taped his hands, legs, eyes, and mouth. (Lol, safety first♥️) and shipped him to the other side of the world.

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

I Like You Better Here | Tiffany Valentine x Nica Pierce (Chucky Series AU)

Takes place after s3 of Chucky, tw: blood, threat of violence, mention of torture/murder, past torture/violence, toxic relationship, sexual themes

Also available on AO3:

Background: Tiffany inevitably possesses a human body again and decides to use this as a chance to try and win Nica over since Nica won't recognize her now. So, Tiffany finds a coffee shop Nica frequents, and just so happens to be in the same place as her. Tiffany starts off slowly, quietly waiting in line behind Nica(and memorizing her order), or getting a coffee and observing her out of the corner of her eye from a table, having a laptop or pad of paper in front of her as if she's working

Eventually, after the machine used to make Nica's coffee breaks (Tiffany of course had nothing to do with it breaking mysteriously, nothing at all) and Tiffany uses this moment to slide up next to Nica under the pretense of her waiting in line for her own coffee to be made, and makes a offhanded joke about how of all the days, today is the one where the machine breaks or something similar in an attempt to get Nica to laugh(it doesn't work, but Nica does glance at her with a small tilt of her lips and giving some sort of sarcastic reply) before Tiffany can say anything else, her name(or a false name belonging to the body she inhabits) is called as her coffee is ready. Tiffany wants to continue to talk to Nica, find some kind of excuse to stay around her, but she holds herself back, reminding herself to be patient and not press the younger woman, so that it isn't suspicious.

This eventually leads to Nica acknowledging Tiffany more when she sees her in her usual spot, normally with a polite smile or a small nod of greeting before she wheels herself out of the shop, each time Tiffany smiles flirtatiously, and each time wants to go after Nica, but she holds herself back, telling herself to behave

Finally, after a few months of this, Nica rolls up to where Tiffany is reading on her computer (or pretending to read), Tiffany gives herself a moment to get into character before looking up, a welcoming smile on her lips as she greets Nica.

Nica asks about what Tiffany is working on as she seems to always be at the coffee shop, and Tiffany gives a small laugh as her eyes sparkle, jokingly inquiring if Nica has been stalking her. Nica shrugs and doesn't confirm nor deny it, and gestures to Tiffany's laptop, asking again what she's working on. Tiffany, having been waiting for this for months, explains that she's been reading about criminal law (because after she was sent to prison there was no way she'd take the risk of being caught again) or something else, and then the two start talking a bit more before Nica says she has to leave. In the following weeks, Nica would start to stop by Tiffany's table more, eventually they would end up spending hours talking about things aside from whatever Tiffany is reading, and Tiffany really starts to learn more about what Nica's interests are and what she's been up to in the years since the Jennifer Tilly kidnapping/murder spree, and Tiffany sinks into a comfortable routine

Eventually, Nica asks Tiffany out to dinner, and Tiffany offers to cook for them, which after some careful thinking, Nica agrees to. Nica has Tiffany meet her at her apartment (Nica doesn't mention that this is because she has weapons hidden all over the place in case somehow Chucky comes back to mess with her).

Tiffany shows up with the required foods needed for her recipe and gets to cooking, she compliments Nica's outfit or something, and can't help but look at Nica often as she works, she doesn't mind that Nica lingers in the kitchen as Tiffany talks about random things, Nica watching her intently when she's working with the knives, nor does she notice the slight crease in Nica's brows when Tiffany moves in a way that is too like herself and not the person she's pretending to be.

When the food is in the oven, Nica offers Tiffany something to drink, which Tiffany accepts with a bright smile and a joke as Nica watches her with a predatory focus as Tiffany takes the glass of wine. "Do I make you nervous Nica?"

Nica, who hadn't realized that her eyes had slipped down to stare at Tiffany's fingers as they wrapped around the stem of the glass, quickly glanced up to meet Tiffany's eyes, she settled back in her wheelchair, trying to appear cool and collected as she answered with a small shake of the head. "No."

Tiffany's lips tug up at the corners as she leans back against the counter, her arms crossing so her chest is pushed up a bit, with her glass in one hand she watches as Nica's eyes follow her movement.

Tiffany's stare is intense, and Nica quickly takes a drink and looks elsewhere as she realizes that she was caught staring at Tiffany.

"Thirsty, maybe?" Tiffany can't resist teasing Nica, who suddenly feels a laugh bubble out of her.

Tiffany smiles triumphantly, and when Nica meets her eyes, there's a fire in them, and suddenly it feels very warm in the room as the sound of the oven fades and the two women are left at opposite ends of the room, locked in a stare that neither one can bring themselves to break.

Tiffany feels warmer than she does in a bath, or even when she's been burned alive, the burn she feels is a pleasant one, one that can only be tempered by the woman across from her, and suddenly, Tiffany's self restraint snaps; she wants to touch Nica, hold her, make her fall apart so she can put the pieces back together.

She doesn't remember putting her glass down and crossing the room, but suddenly she is standing in front of Nica's chair, almost afraid to blink as she sees the same fire she feels is reflecting in Nica's eyes. Tiffany opens her lips, her mouth feeling very dry all of the sudden, and means to ask Nica if she can kiss her, but she only manages "Nica-" before the woman in question roughly grabs Tiffany by the neck and pulls her down to her level in a kiss that leaves Tiffany breathless.

Nica's prosthetic hands are cold as one fists in Tiffany's hair and the other - which had dropped her wine glass or set it aside (Tiffany wasn't paying much attention nor did she care) - gripped Tiffany's hip roughly. Tiffany's own hands quickly move to frame Nica's face, - whether to ground herself or prevent Nica from leaving, Tiffany isn't sure, - and gasps against Nica's mouth as Nica pulls her roughly into her lap.

It isn't a comfortable way to sit, as it is very cramped and Tiffany has to keep stopping herself from panicking mentally over whether she may be too heavy on top of Nica, but as Nica swallows Tiffany's gasps and uses that as an opportunity to slip her tongue into Tiffany's mouth, Tiffany feels all the worry leave her body as she melts against the younger woman.

Nica's kisses are bruising and far from gentle, she kisses like a woman starved and kissing Tiffany is the only way to sate that hunger. Tiffany isn't complaining, and gives as good as she gets, biting just shy of drawing blood and moves to fist her hands in Nica's curly hair, tugging her as close as possible, as if trying to get Nica to become one with her soul.

She had dreamed about this - admittedly in a different setting - more times than she could count, and still she was unprepared for how much she'd become addicted to it, to Nica. Tiffany knew now that choosing to come back into Nica's life as somebody else was the best decision, and she knew that nothing could keep them apart now, not even Chucky. She just wishes that Nica could know that it was Tiffany in her lap, Tiffany who had cooked her food and listened to her stories all these months, that Tiffany had changed for Nica.

It's ridiculous. Nica thinks, this woman is capable of murder, has murdered, hell, even framed Nica for her and her husband's crimes. And yet, something draws her to Tiffany, it was toxic and twisted, but there was a part of her that loved the woman, even despite all her crimes. She should kill Tiffany for everything she's done, right now while her guard is down, it had been her plan after all, ever since she figured out two months ago that this woman was really the murderess who kidnapped her, but now that the opportunity presented itself, Nica couldn't bring herself to do it.

Tiffany was capable of compassion, she had a conscience, she cared deeply for those she loved even if it was a tad obsessive, she may be impulsive and a bit of a sociopath, but she was human too. And before my brain fully caught up with her, Nica had pulled Tiffany down into her lap and was kissing her in a way she had never kissed anyone.

Tiffany was very receptive in her lap, Nica would become more harsh and Tiffany immediately moaned her approval and responded eagerly, leading to the younger woman quickly figuring out what Tiffany liked.

The pair separated for a much needed air break, neither knew how long had passed since Nica pulled Tiffany in, but both women's heads were spinning from lack of oxygen.

Nica kept her eyes closed, not sure if she'd back out of this, whatever it was, if she saw Tiffany, and truthfully she was much too bothered to deny herself what she wanted. And right now, what she wanted was Tiffany.

Tiffany on the other hand had her eyes open as she remained only a few inches away from Nica, her eyes hungrily taking in the image in front of her, as if she was about to wake up from a dream and Nica would be gone. Thoughts and worries getting stronger in her head, Tiffany shifted in Nica's lap, her hands combing gently through her hair, Tiffany dropped one hand to cup the back of Nica's neck, fingers playing with the hair at the base of her skull.

Nica's arm tightened around Tiffany's waist, and Tiffany couldn't hold back a low growl-like moan. Tiffany adjusted herself in Nica's lap again, gasping as Nica dug her nails into the fabric of Tiffany's dress.

"Nica, please, please love, please," Tiffany breathed out.

Nica held back her smirk, and moved to push Tiffany's hips down harder in her lap. "Nicaaaa," whinnied Tiffany as Nica refused to let her move. Nica smirked and opened her eyes as she leaned in closer to Tiffany, whose eyes had fallen shut.

"What? What do you want? Tell me."

Tiffany bit her bottom lip, eyes still shut as her face twitched, Nica watched it all, taking a keen interest in her small tells.

"I want you, please Nica, touch me, please." Tiffany whispered breathlessly.

Nica couldn't help but lick her lips as her mouth became dry with Tiffany's words, the older woman had her eyes shut and was breathing heavily. Nica was quickly debating her options, but the way that Tiffany spoke in a begging manner, that it was Tiffany who sat on her lap covered in small bruises and bites, Nica realized that she felt so powerful in this moment, and boy was she screwed because there was something addicting about it.

"Please." Tiffany whispered one last time, so quiet Nica almost didn't hear it. She could see that Tiffany was starting to doubt herself, and so she made a decision that she would probably curse herself for later. Moving her right hand, Nica lightly ran her fingers down Tiffany's side, causing the woman to shiver.

Leaning forward to the whisker in Tiffany's ear, Nica felt Tiffany twitch as her breath brushed against the shell of Tiffany's ear. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Tiffany was starting to get excited, but Nica had to keep her guard up, and really, she should take advantage of this moment and just kill Tiffany, but her hands have other plans, as one moves to grip Tiffany's wrist, her thumb swiping the inside of it before her hand slowly drags upwards.

Their faces are close enough to touch, and each feels the others breath on their face as their eyes meet. Tiffany's mouth parts, her breathing slightly shaky and before she can say anything, Nica suddenly surges forward and crashes their mouths together in a bruising kiss.

She swallows Tiffany's gasp as Nica's hand on her arm brushes the strap of her dress off her shoulder, while Nica's other hand creeps around Tiffany's neck and grabs a fistful of hair and pulls.

Tiffany gasps as the kiss breaks and moans as her head is forced back, one of her own hands quickly moving to grab onto the back of Nica's neck, as if to ground herself as Nica lunges to attack Tiffany's neck with her mouth.

Nica really does attack Tiffany's neck, as she sucks and bites Tiffany's fair skin hard enough to bruise, not that Tiffany is complaining, quite the opposite actually. She is a mess in the younger woman's lap, her hand at the base of Nica's skull, her fingers gently running through the hair there as she closes her eyes. This continues on for several minutes, until Tiffany can't take it anymore and whimpers the younger woman's name, the hand not on Nica's neck moving up between them, towards her chest.

"Please Nica, please," Nica's name is a whisper on her lips, and Nica smirks into her neck.

"Please what, Tiffany? Show me what you want." Nica purrs into Tiffany's ear as she uses her grip on the woman's hair to force her to look her in the face. Tiffany with glazed eyes doesn't acknowledge that Nica used her real name, or maybe she just didn't catch that part, too wrapped up in herself to pay attention.

Immediately Tiffany's hand that had crept up between them moves to grab Nica's right hand, gently she slides it over a small tattoo on her breast, and Nica pushes her prosthetic hand to cover the older woman's own, and then she squeezes.

Tiffany's lips part with a gasp, her eyes boring into Nica's as Nica moves her hand gently over the tattoo, Tiffany's hand trapped between her own body and the smooth skin of Nica's prosthetic.

Nica tries to keep her head about her, tries once more to get herself to go back to her plan, but as Tiffany stares at her like she's the best thing she had ever laid eyes on, Nica feels the small part of her brain, the one that had been trying to hold onto reason, falter. She knew she should hate this woman, truly she did, and she wanted to, but she couldn't, and she makes a decision that seals her fate: she lets herself let it all go, just for this moment. Just once (for now), she would let the past be in the past, and she would let herself be in this moment with the murderess, let herself feel something other than loneliness or guilt, and as soon as that switch flipped in her brain, Nica stopped holding herself back.

She ceased all her previous actions, making Tiffany whine as Nica dropped her hands so she had use of them again. Tiffany was very confused, unsure if she had done something wrong and quickly felt panic and anger at herself for pushing too soon. But before she could speak, she fell forward against Nica's chest, catching herself with her hands on the back of Nica's chair: she quickly realized that Nica was wheeling them somewhere else in the house, and both excitement and slight fear choked her, preventing her from speaking.

Nica wheeled them quickly with the skill of someone who had years of upper arm strength through the kitchen into the hall, and then to a room at the end with its door open. It was slightly difficult with Tiffany's combined weight straining the chair, and Tiffany pressed against Nica, but Nica managed to make it to the room and proceeded to go right up to the foot of her bed.

Confused, but starting to realize what Nica was planning, Tiffany let Nica push her off her lap and then back onto the bed. "Lay down." Nica commanded and Tiffany felt a rush of excitement and quickly shuffled back on the bed until she hit Nica's pillows. She wanted to offer to help the younger woman, but refrained, instead watching open mouthed as Nica expertly lifted herself out of her chair and onto the bed.

Nica never once looked away from Tiffany as she pulled herself up to where Tiffany was laying by the pillows, and she couldn't help but feel like she was Nica's prey as Nica stared her down, holding herself back as Nica came to sit on Tiffany's hips. For a few moments, neither moved nor spoke, she desperately wanted Nica to touch her, or kiss her, or even hurt her, and she could tell that Nica was well aware of this, but she kept Tiffany trapped, frozen in place and completely at her mercy, while Nica remained calm above her, seemingly content to torment her.

"Nica -" Tiffany began, her voice shaky, only to be stopped by Nica who placed a finger to Tiffany's lips. "Shhhhh," Nica whispered, voice rough as she still stared deep into Tiffany's eyes. Tiffany immediately shut her mouth, watching in wonder as Nica gave her a small smile before moving to lift her shirt over her head. Tiffany felt her mouth go dry as more of Nica's skin was revealed to her, sure, she had seen it before, many times in fact, especially when Chucky controlled Nica's body, but this was the first time that it was Nica who was showing herself to her, unabashedly and with confidence.

When Nica tossed her shirt aside and looked back at Tiffany, she started to fidget under the woman's piercing gaze, and for a moment, Nica thought she could see green shining through the grown eyes of the woman below her. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly feeling self conscious (okay maybe she did know why, but still she would rather not remember those moments from her past right now, thank you very much), but all worries disappeared as Tiffany spoke.

"You're so beautiful." Tiffany said in awe, daring to move her hands to rest on Nica's waist, half expecting Nica to shove her away. But Nica didn't shy away from Tiffany's touch, and seemed to melt beneath it as her face turned scarlet, giving Tiffany a burst of confidence. She let one of her hands slowly move up over Nica's ribs and over the sides of her blue lace bra, with the goal being to cradle Nica's neck and pull her down for a kiss. Before she could do that however, Nica grabbed both of Tiffany's hands and raised them above her on the pillows, a grin lighting up her face in an almost manic way, making Tiffany's heart race faster.

"Not so fast Ms Valentine," Nica's eyes glittered dangerously, and Tiffany, who had been holding her breath under Nica's intense stare, felt herself freeze as her brain finally caught the name Nica used.

Suddenly, Tiffany's mind was abuzz with panic as she realized that not only had Nica used her real last name, but she had also called her by her first name more than once, and Tiffany had been too distracted by the comfortable weight of Nica's body on top of hers to notice.

Nica noticed the change in Tiffany's eyes, and her grip on Tiffany's hands tightened, feeling a sense of power and delight at the small glimmer of fear that flashed in Tiffany's eyes at the action.

"How did you figure it out?" Tiffany whispered.

Nica raised her eyebrows, as if amused that that's what Tiffany is asking in that moment. "You called me Sweetface. No one but you had ever said that."

"Nica-" Tiffany began but Nica cut her off. "Wanna hear a secret Tiffany?" Moving slowly, Tiffany shakily nodded, "s-sure."

Nica shifted on top of Tiffany, leaning down to whisper in Tiffany's ear, "I'm not gonna kill you."

Tiffany's lip trembled, "you're not?" Her question came out in a breathy whisper and a small glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes.

"No." Nica said, leaning back to look Tiffany in the face, "I think I'm gonna keep you right here."

Tiffany knew she should still feel fear, especially given everything she and Chucky had put Nica- through, but instead she felt a thrill at Nica's words, warmth spreading from her cheeks to her toes.

"Why?" The words slip past her lips before she can stop them.

Nica smiled. "Because, I Like You Better here than if you were dead." She used her other hand to gently brush Tiffany's cheek.

"I admit that at first, when I realized that it was you, I had it all planned out. I was gonna lure you here," Nica released Tiffany's hands and used the hand that had been holding them to pull herself prop herself up so she could hover over Tiffany's face. "I was gonna torture you, slowly, and just before you would lose consciousness, I would stop. This would repeat everyday for however long I wanted, making you wish death would finally free you from me." She continued conversationally.

Tiffany was flushed as she listened to Nica, a fire burning deep in the pit of her belly as Nica told her all the ways she would've tortured and killed her. Nica licked her lips and smirked as Tiffany's eyes followed the motion, not seeing the look of self satisfaction in Nica's eyes as she watched Tiffany lick her own lips subconsciously.

Settling herself fully on top of Tiffany, feeling the silky fabric of Tiffany's dress against her exposed stomach, Nica brushed her thumb over Tiffany's bottom lip as she continued speaking. "When you finally accepted that this was your life now, that's when I would finally kill you, in the most painful way I could think of." Tiffany's lips parted, her eyes burning into Nica's as she moved her head slightly so Nica's finger slipped into her mouth.

Nica felt the smirk fall from her lips as the heat that pooled inside her lit up like a live wire. Time seemed to slow as the two women stared at one another, and then sped into overdrive as Tiffany, who had not moved her hands from their position over her head despite Nica releasing her, grabbed onto Nica and in one swift movement flipped them as she crashed her lips against Nica's.

She swallowed Nica's gasp of surprise, using the opportunity to slip her tongue into her mouth, hands moving to cradle Nica's face in a far more gentle way than the aggressive nature of their kiss. "Take this off." Nica growled as they separated briefly, her hands moving to tug at the bottom of Tiffany's dress. Tiffany was all too happy to do so, quickly pulling the offending fabric up her body before tossing it somewhere to the side as Nica recaptured her lips.

Despite all the horrors that surrounded their past together, Nica and Tiffany had a whole future ahead of them, admittedly most of it would be spent in Nica's apartment, but neither seemed to mind.

[podcastenthusiast]

I dunno why I wrote this instead of like a nice lighthearted story about Astarion getting a sunburn or something.

Anyway here's the aftermath of the night Cazador carved the Infernal binding into his back. Lots of sibling interaction.

--

Pain is a strange thing. Given a long enough span of time, it can become almost pleasurable, or at least a neutral sensation. You feel the hot sharp sting of Cazador's blade cut into your back over and over. But you are disconnected, floating above it all.

You're quiet now, tears running down your cheeks. You loathe giving him the satisfaction of seeing you weep but it is beyond your control at this point--an automatic physical response to prolonged, overwhelming agony.

Your body is motionless under his hands. If you move, he will have to start over again.

"I suppose that will do. You may return to the dormitory, boy."

He sounds vaguely disappointed. A poem, he'd told you. Somehow you have failed as a canvas for his artistic mutilation. Too much avoidable editing, perhaps. You wonder why he didn't simply paralyze you, but you suspect he enjoys finding reasons to punish you. Perhaps this was a punishment? Whatever the cause, if any at all, you are relieved to be spared the kennel.

"Yes, Master," a hollow voice replies. You realize it is your own. Just like the blood on the carpet. You wonder if you will be made to clean it later.

Dismal gray light mocks you through the wondows. Dawn. He spent an entire night engaged in bloody composition, your pale skin vellum for his creative vision.

You stagger, legs shaking, to the room you share with your siblings. It is a miracle you manage the stairs without falling. Or you assume you do; there is a momentary lapse of consciousness and you find yourself curled up tightly in a ball on one of the bottom bunks, your back to the wall as if that could protect the tender flesh from anyone wishing to do you further harm.

Yet even in suffering you aren't afforded any privacy. Your sister's soft voice drifts in like the tide.

"My last mark was an alchemist's apprentice. She... well, I have a healing salve. It's yours, if you'd like. I owe you for stitching up my arm."

She is clever to disguise her kindness, although you both know better.

"You're my favorite, Dal," you say, barely more than a whisper. It hurts to speak. Your throat is so raw from screaming.

"Mhm. I need to assess the damage."

You hear Dalyria stifle a horrified gasp when she sees what he did to you. You feel disgusting. Ashamed.

Always a doctor, you think with admiration. It must be nice to know yourself. Your world has become so small, the person you once were such a distant memory.

The brisk professional detachment in her tone is oddly comforting. With great effort, you maneuver yourself onto your stomach. You are already shirtless, which is fine; just the idea of fabric touching your maimed back, or what's left of it, makes you feel a bit faint.

"Brother... gods..."

Her voice sounds brittle, choked: the air of unshakable physician's confidence is suddenly gone. There is only your little sister here, teetering on the edge of tearful. You can't bear it. You've cried more than enough for yourself tonight already.

"Come now, darling, none of that," you soothe, all false cheer. "No sense letting some--frankly probably mediocre--poetry upset you, hm?"

She's seen you wounded before, obviously. They all have countless times. You wound each other and yourselves, on his orders or sometimes just because you csn, because you're starving or viciously bored, and that's only when the master and that bloody skeleton can't be bothered. Dalyria no doubt contended with worse injuries in her mortal life, too. She can bear the sight of your blood easily enough.

Why, then, is this particular instance so different? What does she see etched on your flesh?

"Tell me, Dal, be my mirror. Is it... Am I hideous?" you ask, terrified to lose the one asset of real value you have anymore.

"Of course not, brother," she says. How bizarre it feels for you, an expert in deception, to be the one lied to. "But...this might be beyond a salve."

"Try," you plead with her, hoping it sounds more like a command. You are desperate for any relief from the waves of nauseating pain breaking over you.

"Okay."

The healing salve is cool against your skin and somewhat numbing, easing your aching muscles, but it is not itself magical. The deep cuts do not mend. You suspect Cazador's blade probably was enchanted to prevent effective healing. He wouldn't want to risk having his hard work undone by a pilfered potion.

"It will scar, I'm afraid," she says, as if you aren't painfully aware of that fact.

"As he intended."

She hums whilst she works. Sometimes you like to imagine there are simple things like that Cazador can't take from you all. But the truth, you know, is that he could if he desired it. Could render you mute, mindless thralls if he didn't relish the sound of your screams.

"Oh hells, what's Astarion done now?"

Great. Petras. There is a voice you wouldn't mind never hearing again. Just when you were beginning to believe you might be able to rest a little.

"Shut up," you snap. Your nerves are frayed. He would be wise not to test your extremely limited patience right now.

But wisdom has never been your brother's strong suit.

"Just saying If you didn't give so much lip maybe the master wouldn't have to beat you too badly. Even dogs can learn that eventually."

"Thank you, Petras, as ever a bastion of wisdom," you say through gritted teeth.

"What did you call me?!"

"Enough, you two! Please don't fight," Dalyria begs, like always.

"I deliver twice the marks he does," Petras insists, which you doubt is true given his everything. He'd have to knock out half of his targets and drag them here. "Still struts about like he fucking owns the place only to roll over for the master--"

"Look at him, brother! His back..."

"I'm right here, you know," you say, but it doesn't matter.

Your siblings fall silent. A heavy silence, tomb-like. He has seen Cazador's masterpiece. Finally something shuts him up.

"Oh. Fuck," Petras breathes after a moment. He's verging dangerously on sympathetic. It's too much.

"Damn it, what?! Haven't you ever seen a man flayed before? Is his poetry really that awful? Gods, it's a tasteless limerick, isn't it."

You laugh, bitter and dry, because otherwise you think you'll fall apart. You wish they would all stop looking at you.

"I don't know," your sister says. "I can't read these symbols. Perhaps Aurelia--"

"Must we show absolutely everyone?" you protest.

"Well, I've never seen anything like it," your idiot brother adds unhelpfully. "Seriously, what did you do? Leon, come look at this!"

Wonderful. You're starting to feel like a sick art exhibition. Exposed. It would be funny were it not tragically happening to you. You don't think your siblings would actually harm you in this vulnerable state, not without a direct order. Well, maybe that oaf Petras.

"Master carved him up like a goose," Petras explains to your newest brother once he, too, has beheld the gruesome spectacle that is your tattered skin.

"Why? I mean, there must be a reason. Did you break a rule? Were you caught reading again?"

"He doesn't need a reason," you remind your brother.

Leon is not stupid; he's just scared. He still believes this torture was justified somehow, the logical consequence of failure or willful disobedience, that any sense can be made of the master's capricious moods. He needs to believe it can't happen to him--or especially not his young daughter. You let go of such silly notions a century before Leon was born.

"What does this mean, then?" he wonders quietly. "For the rest of us?"

Even with your face pressed into the pillow, you know what their expectant silence means. They are looking to you for answers. Guidance. How to protect themselves. You understand the master's cruelty as well as one could, having endured his sadistic whims longer than any of them.

"This hasn't ever happened before," you admit. "I don't know why he did it or what he might be planning next. And no, I didn't disobey. I doubt it means anything at all."

"I know what it means."

Violet, right on cue. Mischievous eyes and that stuffed owlbear clutched to her chest, you're certain.

"What?"

"Astar-ion has been cho-sen," your sister declares. Sings, really. Her voice is sickly sweet. Sugar laced with poison.

"Chosen?" Petras scoffs. "Sure. Perks of being the master's special little bitch--"

You spring up from the mattress completely without thought, like you've been compelled to act, but it is only rage driving you to grab your brother by the throat and pin him roughly against the wardrobe. It all happens so fast Dalyria doesn't even scream.

"Say that again," you snarl. "I dare you."

You recognize the briefest flash of fear in Petras' eyes. Perhaps he has a shred of respect for you after all, deep down. He clearly envies you, the deluded fool.

"Get off me!"

He pushes you away from him and, still weak, you stumble and fall flat on your back. Your vision goes white with seering pain; a wretched keening whine escapes your lips. You don't move to get up. You're not entirely sure you could. Dalyria rushes to your side, wringing her hands.

Violet, standing in the doorway, giggles and takes off running down the hall. Petras storms after her, furious, with Leon trailing uncertainly behind them.

Dalyria sighs--such a profoundly tired sound you feel it resonate in your bones.

"You look like a dying animal," she says affectionately.

"I feel like one."

She offers a hand. Helps you up from the floor.

"Ignore him. Please. At least until you heal," she implores you. "I won't have you undoing my efforts. You shouldn't let Petras get--"

"Under my skin?"

"I was not going to say that," she says, glancing away, sheepish. You don't know how she lures anyone back here when she can't lie to her own family.

"You were."

"Was not."

"Were."

"Not."

"Yes."

"No."

You both switch from Common to Elven, then you trip her up with Orcish.

"You're impossible!" Dalyria pouts. But your sister is smiling. A rare sight indeed. You tuck it away somewhere deep within your dead heart, for safekeeping. "Now please rest. Doctor's orders."

You feel cold. Afraid. Slightly delirious with pain and exhaustion, you ask, "What if I'm dying?"

Her expression softens. She isn't smiling anymore.

"You're not going to die," she says. Then, quieter, as you slip away into a trance: "Death is a mercy not meant for us."

[natabatts]

my step mom read the first chapter of my fic and immediately was like “he’s just like you fr” about richie. now does this mean i projected way too heavily when writing or the Worse alternative that i really am just like him fr

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Yandere and stalking should be in fiction books, movie, etc. Not in real life

[missnorn]

Now that Brad Dourif has retired, he is finishing his role as Chucky, and I'm extremely pissed off. I will be shipping Charles Lee Ray and Unburnt OG Freddy Krueger!!! Yay!

[blackenedsnow]

Do you think you can write anything where Chucky/Charles cheers the reader up? Especially if it was related to her(reader) feeling fat and unattractive, you know. Just some fluff

killer confidence

WARNING: Mention of insecurities related to body image

PAIRING: Chucky & (Fem) Reader

NOTE: I'm so glad I'm finally getting requests ughh!! Thank you for your ask. I hope this is alright!

SUMMARY: Feeling insecure about your appearance, especially your weight, you try to hide those feelings, but Chucky, always observant in his twisted way, notices something's off.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, frowning as your eyes scanned over every flaw you thought you could see. The shirt you were wearing felt tight today, tighter than usual, clinging to your body in ways you didn’t like. Your pants felt snug, and no matter how many times you tugged at the fabric, trying to loosen it, nothing helped. You sighed, pulling at your shirt again, wishing you could just disappear.

“What the hell’s your problem?”

You startled, turning around to see Chucky sitting on the edge of the dresser, arms crossed and a bemused smirk on his face.

“Nothing,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror and running your hands over your midsection again, hoping that maybe this time it would look different. “Just… don’t feel great today.”

Chucky raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering just a bit. “Oh yeah? What’s eating at you now?”

You hesitated, not really wanting to talk about it. How could you explain the constant insecurity, the way your mind twisted every reflection into something worse, something uglier? You already felt ridiculous for letting it get to you so much.

“It’s stupid,” you finally said, waving your hand dismissively. “I just feel… fat. Ugly. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Chucky snorted, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—something that wasn’t just mockery. “That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, you women and your body image shit. It’s always the same thing.”

You glared at him, expecting some snide comment or cruel joke. That was his usual way of handling things, after all—harsh humor, crude remarks. It was just who he was.

But instead, he surprised you.

“You know, you’re the only one who sees yourself like that,” Chucky said, hopping down from the dresser and sauntering over to you. “I don’t know where you’re gettin’ this idea that you’re ‘fat’ or ‘ugly’ or whatever the hell’s goin’ on in that head of yours, but it’s complete bullshit.”

You blinked, turning to face him fully now, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “You… think so?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I think so. You think I’d hang around here if you weren’t worth looking at? C’mon, give me a little credit. I’ve got standards.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Leave it to Chucky to make a compliment sound like an insult.

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting a reaction out of you. “See? That’s better. You’re too busy worrying about what you think you look like to realize you’ve got nothing to be whining about.”

“But I don’t feel—” you started, but Chucky cut you off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don’t feel like you look good. You’re stuck in that shitty little brain of yours, obsessing over crap that doesn’t matter. But let me tell you somethin’, sweetheart—none of that changes the fact that you're not fuckin' ugly, no matter what you think.”

Your face flushed at his blunt words. “Chucky, you really—”

“—need to stop bein’ so goddamn nice? Yeah, I know.” He shrugged, pacing in front of you with his usual swagger. “But let me make this clear. I’ve seen a lotta people in my time—real sickos, gorgeous dames, ugly bastards, you name it—and you? You’re a damn knockout compared to most of ‘em.”

You felt your heart lift slightly at his words, despite how gruff they were. “You really think that?”

Chucky rolled his eyes again but nodded, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Hell yeah, I do. You think I’d bother stickin’ around if you weren’t worth it? I may be a killer, but I’m not blind.”

You laughed softly again, the weight of your earlier insecurity starting to fade under his strangely endearing pep talk.

“And another thing,” he said, pointing at you with that little plastic hand. “If anyone tries to tell you otherwise? I’ll gut ‘em, no questions asked. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m sure you would.”

“Damn right.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Thanks, Chucky. I mean it. I guess I’ve just been in my head a lot lately.”

"Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now," he grumbled, though there was a hint of a grin on his face. "But seriously, stop tearing yourself down. You’ve got better things to focus on—like helping me figure out how to take out the neighbors. That guy across the street’s been pissing me off for weeks."

You snorted. "Yeah, I’ll get right on that."

Chucky nodded, satisfied. "Good. And hey, if you ever start feeling like this again, just remember: I don’t hang around fuckin' losers. You’re stuck with me, so that should tell you something."

It was probably the closest thing to a compliment Chucky could manage, but it meant more than you’d expected. The tension that had been weighing on you for most of the day started to ease, and for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel quite so bad about yourself.

Maybe it was just the absurdity of getting a pep talk from a killer doll, but you actually felt a little better. And for now, that was enough.

[nicascurls]

Breaking The Dollhouse - Chapter Six

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: What would have happened if Junior survived and was taken by Tiffany from the hospital? What would that mean for Junior and Nica over the next year?

Notes: I'm back with another chapter! It is sad at the beginning but there is fluff as you get towards the end, I promise. Jennifer will be introduced either in the next chapter or the one after, depending on how much I write.

Tags: @barclaysangel @fairchilds-glasses @streets-in-paradise @high-functioning-fang1rl @thedreemer-artrequestsopen

Junior’s eyes snapped open in an instant, immediately scanning the room. But nothing was different. Sure, it was a little more difficult to tell but as he squinted through the darkness he could make out the shapes of the various pieces of pink furniture that were scattered around the room. He could feel the familiar fluffy blanket under his fingertips and sure enough, he was able to reach out and turn on the lamp that sat on the bedside table. 

Yet in the newly illuminated room, he still couldn’t figure out what had woken him up. It’s not as if he had slept more than usual recently or that he had a nightmare. In fact, it had been one of the rare occasions where he was sleeping peacefully and Nica was still fast asleep, right?

He thought he had felt her move briefly when he woke up but she was still now and still breathing regularly… Or not. Shit!

Junior leaned ever so slightly closer, praying to the gods that it was just his imagination but no. It looked as if Nica was holding her breath, the same way she did when Tiffany had Chucky take control of her body. Preparing herself for the pain and torment she was no doubt going to suffer trapped within her own mind. 

Is that what was happening now? Junior’s blood ran cold at the thought, Could Chucky take over in her sleep? Nica had definitely been afraid of that in the past but it had never happened…

The fingers on Nica’s exposed hand began to twitch and Junior instantly flinched and shrunk back.

“Nica?” He tried desperately to keep his voice steady, it looked as if her? his? breathing was returning to normal. He tried once more, “Nica?”

Nica’s shoulders tensed as she held her breath again and suddenly her arms jolted violently as a small whimper escaped her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was back there again, she knew it. She could hear the high pitched whine of the machines around her, feel the restraints around her wrists and the familiar sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. It’s gonna hurt- it always hurts.

How the hell is she back here? 

Oh gods, where is Junior? The fear struck her instantly. No, no no! They can’t have taken him too! This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I need to protect him. I can’t let them hurt him, not like they hurt Alice. It was supposed to be different!

Nica desperately tried to pull against the restraints but her body would not obey, her arms wouldn’t move at all. She needed to get out! She had to find Junior! Tears began to well in her eyes. 

Just fucking MOVE! You can’t fail again! The tears began to spill over and a small sob broke through. She squeezed her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to hold in the rest of the tears, she needed to get a grip. Crying won’t help her find a way out.

“Just try to relax, Nica.” She knew that voice, it was the same smug tone that had haunted her for four and a half years. Her eyes sprung open as she desperately hoped that she was wrong, she was just paranoid, it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be, Chucky killed him. 

But there he was, the same grey hair and superior smirk, the same calm demeanour. The one that was never comforting, he wasn’t calm because he knew how to help, he was calm because he knew he was in charge, he had the power and he revelled in it. She immediately felt the familiar touch of the cool metal against her temples and closed her eyes once more as a final attempt to block out the pain she was about to feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Junior watched helplessly as Nica’s arms continued to jolt, he was frozen in place completely unsure of what was happening or what he should do. He just kept his eyes fixed on her as she slowly relaxed again. Junior stayed where he was for a moment, he knew Nica would never forgive herself if Chucky attacked him whilst possessing her body, he didn’t want to risk it. He did his best to keep as much distance as possible as he reached out with one hand to shake her shoulder.

“Nica. Can you hear me?” He only got a whimper in response before the woman began to jolt again and it wasn’t stopping this time. 

He jumped back unsure of what else to do, he had to help her but had no clue how. He couldn’t wake up Tiffany, then he would have to explain why he was in Nica’s room, how he got in, who knows what Tiffany would do if she found out? He certainly couldn’t call 911, they’d only lock her away again but he couldn’t let her die either. 

I’ve already lost mom, I can't lose her too!

He moved closer again. What if it’s some kind of seizure?! He certainly didn’t know what to do if it was, he just needed her to wake up.

“Nica!” He resumed shaking her arm again, this time with both hands, “Nica! Come on, I need you to wake up!” He was so frantic, he couldn’t tell how much Nica was moving anymore and how much he was causing. “Please, Nica. You have to wake up! I can’t lose you too. Please, mom!”

With a final jolt Nica’s eyes opened wide as she let out a gasp, immediately sitting up, her eyes entirely unfocused. 

“Nica!” Junior gasped in relief as he moved to hold her hands but Nica immediately recoiled at the contact, trying to wrestle away from anything that was touching her, almost hyperventilating and clearly still fighting off whatever she had faced in her dream. Junior shifts his attention to the cover Nica is trying to remove from herself, talking to her all the while, “It was just a dream. It’s okay, Nica. I’m here.” And I called you Mom. He decided to focus on that later, he had too many feelings to process right now.

“Junior?” Nica’s voice was small but as he looked up he saw how her eyes finally seemed focused, she had stopped moving so urgently and had started to breathe properly again.

“Are you okay?” His question was hesitant and Nica only responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, something he happily returned. He could hear Nica mumble to herself as she continued to hold him, “You’re here. Are you alright?” she instantly pulled back, placing her hands on his cheeks and scanning his body for injuries, “Are you hurt?”

“What- No. Why would I be hurt? Nothing has changed since a few hours ago…” She paused for a second.

“Right. Yeah. It was just a dream.”

“Are you sure it was just a dream?” The immediate look of concern on Nica’s face made him realise that he probably should have worded that better, “Sorry- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you were moving.”

“Moving?”

“No, that’s probably not the best word for it. Kinda flinching? Or Jolting? It looked kinda like- I don’t know. Some kind of seizure, maybe?”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry. I doubt it was anything like that. It was just… a reaction to the dream. I’m fine now, I promise.” Junior wanted to believe Nica but there was no missing the lingering fear behind her eyes.

“Do- do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to hear about that. It’s not fair to you.” I can’t have him think I'm weak and can’t protect him.

“I’m okay with it. Plus, you listened to all the shit about my dad. I want to do the same for you.” 

You can’t tell him! …But he hates secrets! She took a deep breath as she weighed out her options.

“Okay. As long as you’re sure you want to hear it. It’s not pretty.”

“I’m sure.” Another deep breath.

“Alright.”

Junior had to fight to compose himself, whether that was to stop himself from crying or stop himself from killing someone else, he wasn’t sure. He’s moving towards some degree of both. HOW FUCKING DARE THEY TREAT NICA LIKE THAT?! They could have fucking killed her! They almost did a few times by the sound of it! They must have known about Nica’s heart. They had to they were fucking doctors! And to talk about her as if she was a fucking object when she was right there. A GODDAMN PINCUSHION?! He could feel himself start to shake.

“Chucky must have killed those bastards.” He looked to Nica for confirmation, “He did, right?”

“No.” It only came out as a whisper. It was a good thing that Chucky hadn’t, they had been horrible to her but they also believed that she had murdered her whole family in cold blood. That didn’t warrant them being brutally murdered and taken from their families. 

You wish I had killed 'em though, huh?

Of course I don’t! That’s just because of you deciding to use my body as a damn puppet! That had to be the reason for the rising bitterness that was threatening to surface.

She hadn’t told Junior about Dr Foley yet, not specifically or in relation to his frequent ‘sessions’ with her. She’d tell him one day, but not yet. That’s way too much to put on a kid, especially when he’s still being held captive. One day, when they’re both free and safe, then she’ll tell him but not yet. So she cleared her throat and proceeded to clarify the other facts with Junior. 

“Those doctors, or nurses, I'm not sure. Anyway, they worked at Lochmoor, the maximum security place I was kept at for almost all the time. Chucky and Tiffany turned up after I was transferred to Harrogate since it was medium security. Apparently I wasn't allowed visitors at Lochmoor but I'm not sure how true that actually was.”

“So they just got away with all of it?!”

Nica gave a shrug. “I don’t know. Even leaving Harrogate, Chucky was in control, it’s all a blur. The last thing I remember from being in Harrogate was one of the nurses, Carlos, he walked into the room to see me in a straight jacket and three living dolls around me. I yelled for him to run but it wasn’t enough, all three of the dolls attacked him… He was- well, it was sorta complicated but he was kinder than most of the staff I came across. Probably the kindest, actually.”

Junior immediately moved himself back beside Nica, leaning his head on her shoulder, “I'm sorry. He didn’t deserve that…”

“Most people Chucky kills don’t deserve what happened to them, as well as the ones who survived.”

“Not just Chucky,” he whispered, “Tiffany too, anyone else who has helped them and those assholes who locked you away and hurt you.” Nica began stroking his hair again as she gently shushed him.

“I’m not there anymore, and one day, hopefully soon, we won’t be here either. You’ll be able to see your cousin and friends again, explore, do whatever you want to do. I’ll find a way to get you a guitar, you can finally learn to play…”

Junior could picture it now, a small, warmly decorated home, nowhere near as grand as the house he grew up in but that’s what would make it a home. He wouldn’t feel distanced or as if everything had to be perfect all the time, he could have his own room, one he could actually decorate himself. With Greek mythology books covering the shelves and his own guitar in the corner, his own colourful clothes and comfy ones and Nica would have a real home again. Where she could move around and do what she wanted when she wanted to do so. The image was perfect, he only wished it didn’t feel so far away right now. 

“Junbug?” Nica’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Yeah” 

“I’m sorry if my dream scared you. I think I heard you as I was beginning to wake up.” Oh, shit!

“It’s okay, it’s not like you could stop it. I was just worried you were hurt or something, why? What did you think you heard?”

“I thought- You don’t need to worry about it, it was probably just some weird dream thing. I could hear you calling my name, then at one point, I thought I heard you say ‘mom’. But as I said, probably just a weird dream thing…”

“It wasn’t a dream thing. I- I did call you mom. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just panicked and you weren’t waking up, I didn’t mean to make things weird or ruin anything-”

“Woah! Hey, honey.” The woman turned herself to fully face him once again. “You don’t need to apologise, okay? You were afraid, I don’t mind.” A look of confusion covered his face.

“You don’t mind if I call you mom?”

“Uh, I mean, only if it’s something you’re comfortable with. I’m perfectly happy with Nica too, I know you don’t like having to refer to Tiffany as ‘mom’. I just want you to feel as safe as possible, given the current circumstances.” 

Junior took a few deep breaths, slowly making his way through his thoughts. He hated having to call Tiffany his mother, she wasn't, he had a mom and Tiffany played a role in taking her away from him. Nica wasn’t his mom either, not by blood. But she made him feel safe the way his mom did, and could tell when he wanted confort when he didn’t dare ask for it. She validated his interests the same way and always did everything she could to get through to him and make sure he didn’t feel as if he was suffering alone. His mom would have wanted that for him, even if she wasn’t able to do it herself.

“I- I think I would like to call you mom sometimes. As long as you don’t mind…” 

Nica was smiling warmly at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I don’t mind at all, baby.”

[quotablefanfiction]

Tentatively, Zelda put her tiny hand in Impa’s weathered one. Link did the same. Impa spent a long moment solemnly scrutinizing their faces and brand new statures. And then she burst out laughing. “Goddess, you’re so TINY!” she wheezed. Zelda yanked her hand back and spluttered. “Wh— Impa! This is serious!” “This is hilarious!”

Zelda does not think Impa is truly considering the implications of this (chp. 10)

Child’s Play by AimeeLouWrites (AO3) The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom – Teen – Link/Zelda #Linked Universe #De-Aging #Humor #Mild Angst #Crack Treated Seriously #Hurt/Comfort #Temporary Character Death #Fluff and Angst #Trauma #Kid!Wild #Kid!Flora #Protective!Link #Protective!Zelda #The kids accidentally pull a Purah #Link and Zelda’s outrageous lies #The kids process their trauma together while being brats to the heroes

An unfortunate research accident turns Link and Zelda into small children, much like their friend Purah. Exactly like Purah, even, because it was her rune research that did it.

Eight travelers from eras past choose that exact moment to appear nearby. Many misunderstandings ensue.

Now with a bonus chapter 22

Part 2 of the Short King and Nerd Queen series (AO3)

[slasher-fucker-and-sucker]

Slasher Incorrect Quotes

Michael Myers (Halloween) & Ghostface (Scream):

Ghostface: [holding up phone] I’m calling you to ask if your refrigerator is running.

Michael Myers: [tilts head] ...Yes.

Ghostface: Well, you better go catch it! [laughs maniacally]

Michael Myers: [silent stare]

Ghostface: You know, you’re no fun.

Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th) & Freddy Krueger (A Nightmare on Elm Street):

Freddy: If you had to choose between Jason’s life and getting a pizza, what topping would you get?

Jason: [writing on a notepad] Extra cheese.

Freddy: Wait, what?!

Jason: I’d choose the pizza.

Leatherface (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) & Chucky (Child’s Play):

Chucky: What’s your favorite scary movie?

Leatherface: [gestures wildly, making chainsaw noises]

Chucky: ...So, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?

Leatherface: [nods enthusiastically]

Pennywise (IT) & Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs):

Pennywise: Why do you eat people, Hannibal?

Hannibal: [calmly] Because they are rude.

Pennywise: Oh, I eat them because they taste good. We should do lunch sometime!

Hannibal: I’ll bring the fava beans.

Norman Bates (Psycho) & Patrick Bateman (American Psycho):

Patrick: You ever just... feel like someone is watching you?

Norman: [smiling creepily] Mother is always watching.

Patrick: Cool. [whispers] This guy’s weirder than me.

Billy Loomis (Scream) & Stu Macher (Scream):

Billy: [seriously] We need to come up with a foolproof plan.

Stu: How about we just wing it and hope for the best?

Billy: Stu, that’s literally what got us into this mess in the first place.

Jigsaw (Saw) & Samara (The Ring):

Jigsaw: Do you want to play a game?

Samara: Only if it involves climbing out of a well.

Jigsaw: I was thinking more along the lines of a puzzle.

Samara: [disappointed] Oh. Can the puzzle be in the well?

Candyman & Leprechaun:

Leprechaun: If you say "Candyman" five times in a mirror, he appears.

Candyman: True.

Leprechaun: What happens if I say "Leprechaun" five times?

Candyman: You just annoy everyone around you.