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#chucky fanfiction
warmiesstuff · 1 year
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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.
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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.”
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bugz4killz · 5 months
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Under the sheets
“Gimme summa-that, will ya?”
You grimaced. Who the-what the- how- it rang quickly through. Charles Lee Ray was in your bed and you couldn’t remember why. Looking down, you still had clothes on and you thanked whatever the fuck was out there for that notion. But still better yet, why was he in your goddamn sheets. 
“Why are you in my bed, Chucky.” 
He grinned slightly into a scowl, grabbing the water. 
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He answered, crunching the plastic water bottle slightly and drank. 
What a… a nosey little prick..!
“Yeah, I asked, dumb dumb. Why are you in my fucking bed?” You grimaced, held the sheets tighter around you, implying something that you left unsaid. Charles stared at you, perturbed. 
“Oh-ah! Come on,.. Really? You think I’d do that. To you- of anyone. I’m a serial killer but I’m not a fucking monster.”
“You were animated and brought to life through dark magic. Doesn’t that make you a monster?”
“Your mom fucked your dad and magically made you, does that make you a fucking monster?” 
You huffed, turning away from him. Every time you talked, it was just arguing. What was this fucker still doing in your house? You wanted him out. Out of your bed, out of your life.
Ah, right.
You had promised him a body. His body. Hopefully with organs well intact and not completely severed arteries. You silently prayed for all of your medical and sewing knowledge to come together with the fact that you’d have to animate a corpse. Jesus, Victor. Turn yourself in.
You rolled your eyes, trying to rid your inner dialogue. 
“I know how we’re gonna get your body,” You started, looking over at his lazed position on your bed. “I have some resources I can use to get into the morgue. I’m sure they won’t mind.” You grimaced slightly. To be in the science division again was going to be a pain in the ass. 
“Oh I’m sure they won’t, toots. They don’t have sticks up their asses or anythin’ so, it’s good.” He griped. “I know the science -freak by the books-type. Not my jazz.” He gestured with his hands and you frowned. 
“Oh brother.” You griped, rolling your head back. “This is becoming a giant favor.”
“Do you consider living a giant favor?” He grimaced.
“Uh. Stop twisting my words. You always do that- stop it.” You complained, staring at him dead in the eyes.     
“You’re such a whiny brat.” He scoffed. But paused for a moment. “Uh. I’m not gonna say this again so you better fuckin’ listen this time.” He turned to you, pulling your gaze to him. He pulled at your shirt, pulling you closer. “You’re not too bad, kid. Maybe mouthy-but uh not bad. so..” He paused and you couldn’t stare at him anymore, irritating you. “Thaanks.” 
Read the full story on ao3!
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series-thoughts · 1 month
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Breaking the Dollhouse - Chapter Four
Word Count: 2.6K
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 sorry this has taken so long but this is a longer chapter to make up for it. This is an emotional chapter and also has a minor cliffhanger but i'm still writing so I'm gonna aim to get the next chapter out pretty quickly.
Tags: @barclaysangel @fairchilds-glasses @streets-in-paradise
The images were flashing past again, too fast to be able to make any sense of them. Chucky, a window, a woman she believed to be Dr Mixter, what she assumed was her office, a car and finally a quick glimpse of another woman. All of them were playing rapidly as the sound of Chucky’s gleeful cackle consumed everything. 
Nica awoke with a gasp and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She ran a hand through her hair as she attempted to measure her breaths. Chucky’s possession may have been keeping her heart at bay for now, but the habit was still there. 
That same dream has been haunting Nica’s sleep for the past week or so, she had tried to interrogate Chucky on the memories she had been seeing but was only met with him being joyfully cryptic. It continued to bug her more and more each day. Something felt familiar and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out what. Junior had been able to tell something was wrong almost immediately and Nica shared what she could but there was such a struggle whenever she tried to explain the flashes of memories she was shown. She settled for giving Junior any updates she could on the dream each day, even if it wasn’t anything specific. It certainly didn’t help that Chucky was insistent on being even louder in her head whenever she thought about the dream for what he deemed too long, specifically the woman. Not Dr Mixter, he didn’t seem to care about that, it’s not as if Nica could do anything. Then why was he so secretive about the other one? 
She slowly lay back down once her breathing had levelled out and she was certain her heart rate was normal enough. For the most part Junior had been going back to his room after visiting, she was glad that he at least felt safe enough to do that. It meant he got a little more rest and Nica could tell he had been getting tired. 
Gods, it was driving her nuts! The scenes from her dream were playing in her head over and over. It seemed so painfully clear until she tried to focus on any details, especially that woman’s face, suddenly it was all a blur. Nica so desperately wanted to be able to focus on details, to see if there was any chance she had seen that woman somewhere before. She had to be important if Chucky was so insistent on keeping quiet, it was a difficult task for that asshole. 
The sun was starting to stream through the thin, sickly pink curtains around the room, as Nica tried to close her eyes and drift back to sleep. She figured she didn't have long until Tiffany burst through the door screeching, but she was desperate for the chance of any more information. 
That was when she heard the familiar click of the lock and Nica let out a quiet frustrated sigh, keeping her eyes closed in preparation for the inevitable shrieking from her captor.
“Rise and shine, Sweetface!” Tiffany’s voice pierced through Nica’s skull as she walked through the door with her usual cheerfulness.
Tiffany swiftly made her way over to where Nica was lying before pulling back the covers and pulling her up to a sitting position by her shoulders. Nica settled into the act of still believing she had no limbs, she relaxed her arms but maintained her look of disgust. Not that she had to fake that part. It had become rather unsettling for Nica over time how easy and almost normal it felt to keep up the act. Chucky was always happy to keep reminding her how similar the feeling must be for her to all the times she was hypnotised. If that thought didn’t make her uncomfortable enough, she was more than aware of times when, unless she really focused, she was convinced she couldn’t feel her arms. Even having to discreetly look at her sides to reassure herself or if it was just her and Junior, he would notice and gently take her hands as he asked if she was alright. 
Tiffany continued to excitedly ramble about the supposedly exciting day ahead as she fed a reluctant Nica her breakfast. Nica herself had stopped listening almost immediately as she used every ounce of control she had to not slap Tiffany, grab her by the hair, take the fork out of her hand and stab her in the eye… The options easily came to her. She only looked up when she saw a shadow move across the area of the floor her eyes were fixed on. Junior.
Nica looked up a little to see him standing leaning against the door, a small smile on his face. A silent greeting to her, wishing her good morning. She briefly smiled back at him as Tiffany turned to pile the fork in her hand with more food. 
Suddenly another shriek of surprise came from Tiffany as she remembered she had forgotten a glass of water for Nica. Nica watched as Junior flinched at the sudden noise, a look of shock briefly on his face.
And then it hit her. She was taken aback. How had she not figured it out before? The eyes, the hair, the facial features. The woman had to have been Bree Wheeler. It was Junior’s shocked expression, it was identical to the woman- Bree’s expression as she fell. Oh gods! Junior still believed her death was a suicide!
“- Okay? Nica!? Did she drug you already?” Nica snapped out of her trance to see a concerned Junior sitting on the edge of her bed. 
“No. No, she hasn’t drugged me yet. I’m sorry Junbug. I didn't mean to worry you, I was just… half asleep still.”
Junior gave her a hesitant smile which she returned, stroking his hair with one hand. “Good morning, honey.” Junior closed his eyes at her touch, briefly allowing himself a moment of peace. 
“Morning…” he mumbled back. Junior had been feeling increasingly more restless as the weeks went on, he had tried asking Tiffany if he could at least go outside the house if he didn’t leave the grounds. It’s not like he would be able to without Tiffany anyway, she refuses to tell him the code to the gate but it was still a ‘no’. He felt like a rat in a cage, he would settle for just being able to feel a breeze but the windows were always locked. 
“I’m back!” Tiffany announced as she made her way back to the room with the familiar click-clack of her stilettos. Junior quickly turned to look at her with a fake smile plastered across his face as Nica simultaneously dropped her arms and expression. 
“Look how sweet you two look.” Tiffany admired as her eyes fell on them, “I knew you two would get along, we’re a perfect little family! Now run along, Junior. Get dressed. We’ll meet you in the living room once Nica has finished her breakfast.”
It killed Nica to hide things from Junior but she couldn’t tell him, not now, not like this. She just needed some time to figure out how to bring up the subject in a way that will upset Junior the least. Oh, who is she kidding? It’s going to destroy him no matter what she tells him and worse still, he won't be able to do much to take his mind off it or even fully process it. Not when he’s cooped up in this damn house. With the damn wife of the person who killed his mother, convinced him to kill his father (even if it was deserved) and tried to kill him. 
No. She had to tell him. Junior will be heartbroken regardless of when he is told, she can’t allow him to also feel betrayed by her for not telling him sooner. 
Before she knew it, the three of them were once again sitting in the living room, Tiffany badly reciting the lines to Liar Liar with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Nica could tell that Junior was feeling particularly unsettled, she was fully aware that she wasn’t helping the situation. Junior had started off trying to initiate their usual game of mocking Tiffany’s drunken line delivery behind her back, she had smiled back in amusement but couldn’t bring herself to join in with the game. It felt too much like lying to him, acting as if nothing had changed, as if she was as happy as they could be, given the circumstances. She knew she had to tell him but the dread was eating her up. 
 Junior himself was becoming more hesitant by the moment. Did he take the joke too far? Was he beginning to annoy Nica? Was she just getting sick of him? His thoughts were interrupted as Tiffany unceremoniously dropped herself next to him on the couch. She was moments away from passing out and by the look of disgust on Nica’s face, she knew it too. Ugh. He could smell the alcohol on Tiffany’s breath and mixed with the cigarette smoke was enough to make him feel nauseous. He watched as Tiffany placed the half-empty wineglass down before drunkenly mistaking the same vessel for an ashtray and dropping her cigarette in it. 
“That’s ‘nother ten- ten grand in..” The two hostages watched as their captor fully sunk against the couch, out cold. Junior instantly grabbed the TV remote and paused the movie before getting up and quietly making his way closer to Nica. Nica gave more of a genuine smile then, “Hey kid..”
Junior smiled back almost hesitantly, “Hey…” he took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to ask what was so strongly on his mind. “Nica, can I ask you something..?” He didn't miss the look of panic that briefly flashed across Nica’s face before she composed herself.
“Of course you can, Junbug. You know that, don’t you?” 
He nods quickly, “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. Sorry.” He takes another breath, “It’s just… Have- have I done something to upset you? You've seemed quieter since I first spoke to you this morning…” Nica’s expression immediately softened as she reached out to gently squeeze his hand.
“Oh, honey, no. You've done nothing wrong. I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.”
Junior immediately lets out a sigh of relief, “Okay. It’s okay, but… what is wrong then? Something seems to be bothering you..” 
It was Nica’s turn to take a deep breath, “Junior. There’s something I need to tell you. It- It's a difficult situation but I know you hate secrets. If you want I can tell you later if you think that would be better or make you more comfortable, or I can tell you now but I'm gonna need you to do your best to stay calm either way.”
Junior took a moment to consider his options, maybe what Nica was going to tell him would be better said when Tiffany wasn’t in earshot. Even if she was out cold for the time being but the feeling of being kept in the dark was already threatening to consume him. 
“Could- Could you tell me now?” He caught a brief glimpse of something in Nica’s eyes. Fear? Regret, maybe? Junior couldn’t be sure. 
“Okay… So, Junior, You know the dream that I have been trying to figure out?”
Junior nodded hesitantly, “The Chucky one?” he clarified.
“Yeah, that one. Well… I think I figured out who the other woman is in it.”
“Okay. So that’s a good thing, right?”
It was Nica’s turn to nod, every word felt painful to say. Another torturous step closer to Junior’s inevitable devastation. 
“Yeah… Yeah, overall I think it’s a good thing. It’s just that I don’t think it’s going to feel that way at first.” She had to force herself to look at Junior, the look on his face was already painful enough. “You- Your mom. You said she had jumped..?” 
His heart sank and he immediately began to feel sick. “Mmm hmm, from her therapist's office…”
“Dr Mixter..?”
Junior somehow managed to become even more pale, “I don’t remember telling you that.”
“You didn’t.” She struggled to keep her voice steady as she moved a hand to his arm, gently stroking her thumb to try and provide some comfort, “Honey, it wasn’t a suicide. Chucky pushed her.”
The words echoed around Junior’s head. He felt numb, as if he was drowning, nothing felt clear. Shouldn’t he be glad, or relieved? She didn’t leave him, his dad was wrong, she wasn’t a quitter. She wanted to stay with him.
And he helped her killer slaughter dozens of others in return!
He couldn’t breathe, maybe he was drowning. Or at least suffocating. Nica’s hands had moved to his face, “Junbug? Junior, sweetie. You need to breathe, okay. Can you look at me?”
He managed to focus enough to redirect his gaze to Nica’s, much to her relief.
“There you go. Good job, honey. I need you to try and follow my breathing, alright. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
He tried. He really did but he couldn’t seem to get any air into his lungs, his fear multiplying at every failed attempt. “Can’t…” was all he could gasp out before the sharp pain struck his chest. Nica felt his body go stiff before slumping against the couch, still gasping for air. 
Nica knew the pain all too well, “No.” she mumbled to no one in particular, “No. No. No! Junior! Just hold on, baby.” She had to pry her hands away from him, going against every instinct she had as she began to scream.
“Tiffany! Tiffany!” She saw the blonde woman begin to wake up, sleepily stretching without a care in the world. “Tiffany!” Nica screamed again, finally causing the woman to pay attention to her surroundings.
“Sweetface?!” she responded, visibly unsettled as her eyes scanned over the scene in front of her. 
“He needs one of his shots.” Nica informed her as she tried to keep her voice steady, Tiffany however, was clearly still in shock.
“What..?”
“NOW! Tiffany, Please! He could die!” That seemed to get through to Tiffany and she reached for one of the shots of adrenaline and approached Junior, who was getting weaker by the second.
“Under his rib…” Nica instructed softly as she watched Tiffany inject the contents of the syringe into Junior’s system. Junior soon let out a gasp as his eyes once again opened fully and Nica slouched in relief. 
As soon as the tension began to melt away, Tiffany was right back to her usual self, “There you go, sweetface!” She rather roughly helped Junior into a sitting position against the back of the couch. His breaths were slowly becoming regular again but he was clearly still dazed. Most likely still processing the sick mixture of the truth and his heart episode. 
“Well, what happened there, Junior?” Tiffany inquired joyfully, clearly back in her own world.
“I- I-” Junior was clearly still a little out of it, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened, everything he now knew.
Nica couldn’t help but snap, “Give him some space! He’s only just started breathing regularly again, he's exhausted.”
“It’s okay, Nica.” Tiffany explained as if she was explaining the most basic concept in the world, “I was only asking. The doctor said that would only happen if he did any vigorous exercise or was under too much stress, you know.” Nica simply held her tongue as she feigned ignorance, she had decided it was best to keep her own condition a secret, especially since Chucky’s influence seemed to be stopping any major incidents for the time being. She simply spent the rest of the afternoon keeping careful watch over Junior, waiting desperately for the next chance to talk to him alone. 
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funtimeisparty · 4 months
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Cute Chucky
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sweetface1 · 9 months
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How Paul met the twins.
This is just how I think Paul met the twins for the first time. Maybe later I’ll think of a different way they’ve met or expand more on this in the future.
This is kinda from Paul’s point of view.
He meets Glenda first at an audition for a community theater's production of Beetlejuice or Sweeney Todd ( can’t decide which). He decides to approach them because they’re by themself and seem slightly uncomfortable. They end up talking and he finds out they share similar movie and music tastes. He leaves the audition happy he’s made a friend, but quickly bemoans the fact he never got their number. He’s relieved to find they’ve both passed their auditions and quickly asks for Glenda’s number (and maybe he starts to develop a crush). As they talk they never quite get into personal details about each other's life .How was he supposed to know Glenda was a twin ? So a few days later when he’s picking up last minute groceries at the store and sees Glenda with longer hair trying to reach for something he doesn’t hesitate to help. He just thinks oh they must be trying a new style today. Thinking back he thinks maybe he was a bit too distracted by his crush on Glenda to notice that wasn’t them. Since when did Glenda ever get embarrassed or have a slightly deeper voice. Okay yeah he probably should’ve realized this wasn’t Glenda but again it’s not his fault he was distracted. Besides they answered to the name Glenda and never corrected him. The conversation however didn’t last long and he couldn’t help but think that encounter was strange (meanwhile Glens like ah this must be dude that’s causing Glenda to act strange. Cause someone also has a crush). At the next rehearsal he notices Glenda’s hair is short again and goes over to ask if Glenda’s okay after their last encounter. He even gains enough courage to compliment their outfit today and the one they wore at the store. Now he really should’ve known something was up when Glenda laughed and gave him a look. Towards the middle of the rehearsal members of the stage crew appear to show how to use the new props. As he looks across the room he sees Glenda and does a double take. Standing next to Glenda was a carbon-copy with longer hair. When they later approach him and Glen introduces themself he can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.
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streets-in-paradise · 6 months
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Clothing Thief - BarclayPierce (Andy x Nica)
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Warnings: Inspired by this post by my lovely friends @barclaysangel and @series-thoughts. AU were the twins and Junior are still alive.
Summary: Finding stuff can sometimes be hard in the mess created by a trio of chaotic youngsters, minor inconvenience Andy had to get used to despite how annoying it could sometimes turn out to be. Being unable to find his own clothes in a hurry surpasses the limits of his patience, but his suspects are pointing in the wrong direction.
Notes: Yes, I'm using the shirt style parallel found by @silvershewolf247 as header despite the pictures are from different eras only because i loved it so it's merely ilustrative.
Living with the kids was a huge company improvement compared to the times in which the severed head of Chucky was his only roomate, he loved them and there were days in which he would actually take a moment to point out how much they presence have changed things for good.
That wasn't one of those days, since it was Andy's turn to experience the downsides of coexisting with the children of the killer doll and a troublemaker teen discovering the posiblities of a non repressive enviroment. The place was a mess, the order of things completely swipped sometimes in the most ridiculous ways. Used to have housemaids in the wealthy houses of their parents, the three of them were still adjusting to keep things in control by themselves. Glen and Glenda were trying their best, but their younger friend was not allways the case. Released from the obligation of incarnating a perfect reflection of success for his demmanding father, Junior had become a little gremlin wild as the woods.
Searching for anything was becoming increasingly harder and that started to apply to his own personal items too. Something as simple as a shirt to wear over a regular t-shirt, he couldn't find. Typically, when the issue would be about house items and depending the case he could consider let it go. As an ex hermit used to his routine, loosing his own things was too much and he was genuinely pissed.
Like Nica would always say, communication was the key of a good home enviroment, so he was going to communicate his feelings very clearly.
" Were the fuck is my green shirt?" He complained for the three to hear. " It's not where i left it and I still haven't lost my fucking mind completely, so i know it had to be one of you ... because it's always one of you. "
They looked trully surprised, but Andy couldn't tell for sure if Glen trully was and the other two were just following them to release themselves from guilt.
"Wrong call. Why would I want to be near your clothes? " Glenda calmly recalled. " Unless you assume I'm on an incognito mission impersonating a lame styled ordinary guy."
" To be fair, Andy, like half of your wardrove is green. I think you will have to be more specific " Junior added right away. " You have quite a few green shirts, a green jacket ... Is it to fit the camping aesthetic or what?"
" Is there anything else you can tell besides from green? Like, the tone of the colour, for example? That would be helpfull. " Glen concluded, trying to being the one to bring the calm. " I washed your military green one, is it that the one you are looking for?"
The fact that they were trying so hard for him to not be mad only made it worse because, for once, Andy felt in all right to be mad at them.
" No, it's not that one ... And that's not the point!! " He tried to explain himself, frustration escalating. " ... I really don't ask much, alright? I think we all can agree in that. I put up with a lot from you on a regular basis. You almost set the whole place on fire twice, Junior has attacked me with a FREAKING NERF GUN! All I expect in return is for you to not MESS WITH MY THINGS!! IS THAT REALLY SOO MUCH? I WANT SOME PEACE, QUIETY ... I WANT TO FIND MY FREAKING SHIRT!"
It was the agonical scream of his patience running out, he was trully not listening to logic and purely speaking from the knowledge of past experiences. Otherwise, he would have realized there was a fourth element missing in his equation.
Nica wheeled towards him following the sound of his small meltdown for everyone to see she was wearing a green shirt and, apparently, no t-shirt underneath.
" ... So I'm now asking one simple question ... " Andy was still complaining to the kids, attempting to finish his sentence at the same time the sight of her irrupted . " Who the fuck took my shir--"
She gave him a shy smile and his expression transformed. Looking down, he recognized the exact shirt he was looking for and as his glance looked up once more at her he couldn't help himself from becoming a blushing mess.
" ... Nevermind, it doesn't matter." He softly told the kids, more focused on dealing with the effect she had on him. " Sorry for doubting of you, although you have to admit I had valid reasons."
" The minimum I expect is for you to unleash all the crushing weight of the law on Nica after this." Junior teased him, pretending to be offended. " Condemn the clothing thief, we have been wrongfully accused and she already knows how horrible it is to be paying for a crime you didn't commit."
Nica presented herself completely willing to testify.
" I'm sorry, Andy. I have to admit I find your shirts very comfortable and I didn't think you would mind. I can take it off and put something else on."
The poor man was too lost admiring her to even care about the whole thing anymore. He was wearing his heart in his sleeve, even if he wouldn't want to.
"NO!" He exclaimed way more louder than what he would wish to have sounded in the negatory, almost sounding like desperate pleading " ... I mean...no, it's fine..."
Nica became quickly aware of what was going on. Although not directly intentional, she did enjoy being a tease. Andy looked adorable when she could tell his thoughts were evaporating, he had the most kissable face.
"You sure? I don't mind..."
"No!" He cutted her off with insistence, avoiding to look at the kids laughing of the red tonality taking over his face. " No, it's okay... It just ..."
He stopped the flow of words for an instant, then delivered the conclussion almost like a whisper.
"... it looks really good on you. "
Nica smirked, getting closer to him before replying.
" Thanks ... You look really good on it too."
The youngsters bursted into laughter, Junior interrupting to mock them simulating a megaphone with his hands.
" Get a room, we are trying to watch TV!"
She chuckled, not affirming or denying the claim, and that helped Andy to relax. Still, his eyes weren't going to find focus on anyone or anything else anytime soon.
Nica was informally invited to steal his clothes whenever she wanted.
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arrow-of-ravenclaw · 19 days
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Whumpril day 8
Aye it's my birthday! And I'm posting whump to start.
The Fear of Falling Apart
Sequel to 'Cause I Have Built a Future in My Mind With You (And Now The Hope Is Gone)
Rating: Teen
Fandom: Chucky (TV 2021)
Three days have passed since the explosion, and Jake still hasn't woken up. Devon isn't doing well. Lexy feels like she's the only one keeping things together.
@whumpril day eight (alternate prompt four - no appetite)
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Bring the Pain
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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.”
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m3lonpire · 20 days
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A Sleepy Chucky Draft
Author notes: Why did I do this? I have no clue. Do I have any regrets? Nope. Absolutely none. Okay, well, maybe like, two.
Harboring Chucky was living hell.
You went over how this happened a million times in your head, and yet none of it made sense. You were a criminal, but barely considered a petty thief. You had stolen some things in your life, but it was essentials. Pads, medicine, money and food, but nothing like expensive watches or anything like that. Hell, you weren’t even sure you were in the system. You had never been charged with anything worse than petty theft.
Until now.
Here you are one day, “innocently” stealing a travel van. Little did you know a frying pan would meet your face as soon as you opened the door. But, shockingly, your kitchenware introduction wasn’t the most surprising thing. You woke up on the floor to the sound of something metal tapping against wood. You tried to move your hands, but they were crudely tied behind your back with some sort of bathrobe tie.
Upon looking up, your shock only tripled as you saw a strange little doll was the source of the sound, tapping a knife against a table. He was fiddling with it, sighing. He seemingly seemed bored out of his skull.
You stayed relatively scared, yes, but then you realized who it was. You had been kidnapped by Chucky. You reached behind you, trying to see if there was anything you could use to get out of this situation. But, as you were fiddling, you somehow managed to quite loudly slam a cabinet door that was behind you, wincing at the loud sound.
“Well, I’m dead.”, you thought to yourself as Chucky’s head snapped towards you, a sadistic smirk growing on his face. “Why hello, friend. Wanna play?”, he chuckled as you backed away from him, slamming back into the cabinet. Your squirming all but stopped when he put his knife to your throat. “Tell me one good reason I shouldn’t spill your blood all over this damn camper.”.
Luckily, in knowing who he was, you knew about his wife… Tiffany. She was described in articles as being slightly less trigger happy compared to her husband. So, you decided to do the only thing you could think of; bullshit until something stick.
“Does your wife know you broke your promise?!”, you blurted out. Chucky’s plastic eyes widened like that of a human’s, and he seemed taken aback and angry. “What the…?! I never made any bullshit promise! She decided to force me to go cold turkey to ‘set a good example’, or whatever the fuck she said.”. Suddenly, he grabbed your hair, pulling your head up. “Did she send you after me?!”.
“What if she did send me?”, you said. “I’m sure she’d be devastated to know you’re trying to break your promise.”. Chucky’ breath hitched, seeming about as impressed as he was pissed.
“My wife ain't got nothin' to do with this, you hear?!”, he growled. “I make my own rules, and nobody tells me what to do. You think you can make me feel guilty? Ha! And Why are you so concerned with my personal life, huh? This is about me and you, not about my wife. Keep her out of it, or you'll regret it.”.
“Alright, fine. Tiffany didn’t send me.”, you sighed, the fear in your eyes and voice obvious. “I was just trying to steal this camper when you hit me in the head with a goddamn frying pan”. “Oh, you were just trying to steal the camper, huh?”, Chucky asked with a sarcastic tone. “Sure, sure, play innocent all you want. But let me tell you something, stealing is my game and I play to win. It's only a matter of time before you're my next victim.”.
“W-wait, please!”, you begged with tearful eyes. “Don’t kill me! I-I can be useful to you!”. Chucky responded with a mix of amusement and curiosity, saying, "Useful, huh? Now that's an interesting proposition. I've never had a human volunteer to be useful to me before. Alright, little one.”, he said in a venomous tone that made you wince. “Convince me why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now."
Swallowing your fear, you responded. “I used to collect creepy dolls from thrift stores and all that. I-I could sneak you in to places!”, you said quickly.
A wave of excitement and sinister joy washed over his face as he let go of your head and said, "Oh, now we're talking! I like the sound of that. Imagine the shit we could get into together. Alright, kid, you've convinced me. Let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up.”. You sighed, relaxing a bit as you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. “But remember.”, he said, tightening his grip on your hair a bit. “One wrong move and it's game over for you."
Flash cut to now, you’ve been carrying around the little doll for about four months now, and you’ve had no shortage of close calls and bloodstained clothing in that time. But, you’ve slowly learned more about Chucky. Learning how he and Tiffany first met, the relationship between him and his son… or was it his daughter? His family dynamics were nothing short of confusing bullshittery. But, over this time, you’ve learned that he’s kinda a fun dude to be around. Granted, a psychopathic killer doll dude, but you don’t struggle to remember enjoyable conversations with him.
Maybe carrying around the little murderer wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
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murdercouple · 1 year
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I was looking for good Child's Play fanfictions and some particularly... irritate me. Why? I'll tell you right away.
Our Chucky, in these stories, comes across as "the poor thing no one ever cared about, abandoned and betrayed by everyone", even by Tiff who, despite all, insists on putting up with his nonsense (i mean she did abandon him for no reason in Seed but the author claims her feelings were never genuine, which couldn't be further from the truth).
John, who was RIGHT to refuse to help him, is made a filthy traitor.
Poor Sarah? Same.
Andy, whose childhood was stolen, is seen as a threat to be eliminated, and eventually gets killed.
God, who writes these things, Emperor Palpatine? They make the good guys (the real ones!) come across as j£rk$ while rats are surrounded by a golden aura!?
Let's be clear: Chuckster's still my fav little imp, but i certainly don't want him to get away with his bull$h!t. Like, if his eternal tug of war with Andy should end with the latter's defeat, that would be questionable.
Oh boy..
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warmiesstuff · 1 year
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How do y'all wanna fuck a 2 ft and 4 inch doll?🤨
Link:
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myveryownfanfiction · 6 months
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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.
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bugz4killz · 1 month
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Hours passed before Chucky stirred awake. His eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust under the sunlight pouring in from a window in the room. He peered down at his sleeping detective, who laid on his chest softly breathing. Charles’ lips curved into a smile. He drew his hand from Norris’ back to her hair and combed his fingers through its short length. Locks slithered through his fingers like snakes weaving down a river. He marveled at it. Who knew hair could look so interesting?
Nora’s eyes trembled open with Charles’s eyes meeting her own above her head. 
“Hi,” She croaked, and rubbed sleep from her eyes with her hands.
“Hey dollface,” He whispered. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and left a hand on the side of her face. 
“How long was I out?” She murmured.
“‘Bout a couple hours, give or take.” 
Norris hummed, relaxing into his chest again. When she realized what she was lying upon, her eyes drew wide.
“Oh my god I can’t believe you got me to sleep on this dirty ass mattress.” She groaned with a hand to her temple. Chucky snorted out a laugh, and pulled his arms back around her body. 
“Y’fell asleep. I’m not gonna let ‘ya sleep on the floor.” He grunted and adjusted himself under her.
Nora sighed, rolling her eyes. She decided to give up on trying to avoid the mattress’ touch, and cosied herself further into his side. Nora laid her head on Charles’ chest, feeling his heartbeat thump under the shell of her ear. She enjoyed the battering of his heart and felt her body relaxing. His hand drew back to her head, stroking her hair in slow fruition.  
Her eyelids were growing heavier with each passing second, unable to fight the sleep that laid at bay. 
“When do we need to leave?” She wearily murmured. Charles brushed his fingertips on her forehead over her bangs. His head was leaned forward and eyes lulled in a trance of comfort. His lips held a soft smile, that wasn’t much of a smile, but Nora knew of its familiarity and ease.
“At some point,” Chucky grumbled, more focused on slowly passing his hand through her dirty amber chestnut hair. Norris’ eyes met his own. They remained staring for a few moments, until her eyes slowly shut.
“Alright… you better wake me up.” She whined, and swayed her head. Nora felt his chest rumble when he complained under his breath. 
Chucky watched as Nora’s breath evened under his touch, and her black eyelashes danced on her cheeks. They were dusted in a light pink hue, her olive skin glowing under the sun’s rays. He sighed, relaxing a hand into his palm, eyes never leaving her face.
“Such a beautiful thing.” Charles muttered, his eyes light. 
He was silently glad Nora was still with him, though he would never voice the thought. For a moment, he feared losing her in the chase from the cops. The feeling was short lived, but strong. It returned to him with a scowl, and his fingers numbly touched her cheek. He furrowed his brow, gripping a hand into a fist on her back. 
The fear was frustrating, unnerving even. It was uncontrollable, and he feared it swallowing him whole. It would rack over his body in shakes, and he would grip at his hair. The uncontrollable urge to harm. To pull, grip, and throw. His nerves would spark to life and burn. Fingers would flex under his grasp at a rapid pace. Blurry figures surrounded him, encasing him in their circle. They would push closer, and he would struggle to pull air through his lungs. It was cold and bitter in his lungs, resulting in wheezing breaths of air. 
Chucky’s eyes snapped open. Wearily they drew to Nora’s sleeping form, and he tempered; his fist uncurling and fingers grasping at her sweater. He mulled the soft fabric between his fingers at a slow pace, thinking. He tried again to dispel his fears by becoming aware of Nora’s presence on his chest. The soft weight was reassuring, and her breathing was calm. Chucky’s beating heart relaxed to an even pace with body sinking back into the mattress.
“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” He cursed, feeling like a wound ball of nerves. He reached in a coat pocket for his box of cigarettes and a lighter and pulled the two out. His fingers plucked one from the pack and pushed it into his lips. Drawing the lighter up, he drew the smoke in with two fingers purchased between the cigarette. 
Charles sighed, careful to blow the smoke away from her sleeping face. His eyes remitted her face with a soft tilt of his head.
-
chapter 23 snippet, spellbound facade
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series-thoughts · 6 months
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Breaking the Dollhouse - Chapter Three
Word Count: 1.8K
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: So this chapter took me longer to write than I expected and does focus on Nica's attempt in Cult, so a warning for that.
Tags: @barclaysangel @rogertaylorismyking
Things had changed since the twins visited. Junior had been nervous before around Tiffany after discovering Nica but now it was so much worse. He had looked forward to his secret visits to Nica's room but now whenever he was alone with Tiffany he wished for Nica to be there too. Someone who actually encouraged him to share his feelings, not just about life now but everything before and his interests. Nica sat and listened no matter how long he felt like he was rambling, gave him comfort when he needed it, waited patiently when certain stories were more difficult for him and took him longer to voice. Or recently, even progressing to things they would both like to do, hopes they had before Chucky. That’s where they were now. Sat eating some of the food that Junior now has stashed in his room that he brought to share, enthusiastically telling Nica all about Greek Mythology. 
Nica was listening intently as she worked her way through a cookie. It made the days being trapped a little more bearable, seeing Junior's face light up talking about his interests. Nica continued to try and absorb all the information Junior was presenting her with when he suddenly went silent, staring at her wrist before trying to pry his eyes away.
Nica silently cursed herself, she didn't like anyone seeing that scar, especially Junior. He had gained the courage to open up to her about his mothers death, after hearing that she focused even more on keeping it hidden. She didn't want to provoke any bad memories for him. Whilst the wound was now healed, the scar was still pink and raised enough to give away that it was a somewhat recent incident.
"Junior…" She spoke gently, trying to pull him out of his trance.
"W- when did-"
"It was before I met you." She could feel a lump forming in her throat at his reaction. "I'll explain everything, I just- I tried to keep it hidden, I didn't want to upset you."
"Can- can you explain it now?"
Nica could see the worry in his eyes, the fear that she would be gone too. 
"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Come here." She gestured to the side of her and Junior instantly sat down at her side, ready to listen.
"So you remember I told you about what happened to my family?"
"Yeah, Chucky killed them and framed you."
"Well, there was one other person who survived that night that I didn't tell you about." 
Nica spent close to the next hour explaining what happened to her beloved niece and answering any questions that Junior had. All the while, he stayed sat next to Nica, resting his head on her shoulder and giving her hugs when she struggled to continue explaining. 
By the time the explanation was done, both of them had shed a significant amount of tears, not only for the pain and suffering that Chucky and Tiffany had caused for both of them, but for the poor little girl that Nica had considered a daughter who had been so close to surviving. 
Once she had finished, Nica remained in the same spot, staring straight ahead whilst absent mindedly stroking Junior’s hair. She knew it had been a lot for Junior to take in and he was currently curled into her side with his head resting on her shoulder as he processed everything. 
“I’m sorry for not telling you before, Honey.” Nica spoke into the silence, “I know you hate secrets, but with everything you're already dealing with- It’s, it’s a heavy subject and I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially after the past months…”  
“Yeah, I get that…” He responded in a small voice, still coming to terms with what he had been told, he remembered all too well how he felt after his mom passed. What lead him to feel low enough to listen to Chucky in the first place, “I know being kept in here is really shitty, especially after all the other shit you've been though, but… you don’t feel- you won't-”
“It won’t happen again, baby.” She gently grabs his face in her hands and lifts his head to look him in the eyes, “I promise you. It won’t happen again, I’m right here…” 
In an instant, Junior loops his arms around Nica’s neck, hugging her tightly as if to reassure himself that she was, in fact, still there. He eventually let go, but still stayed close to her, for her comfort as well as his own peace of mind but there was still one thought he couldn't shake, “Do you think the same thing would have happened to me?” Nica’s head snapped up before he had even finished his question, eyes immediately scanning him for any injuries. “I mean, if I had kept doing as Chucky asked?” 
Inside her head Chucky let out a short laugh, It would depend on how obedient the brat was! 
Don’t fucking touch him! Nica snapped back. Junior watched as Nica calmed herself. 
“I- I don’t know, honey. I’m just glad we never had to find that out.” Junior just gave her a small smile, gently nodding his head in response as Nica glanced at the clock. 
“We should get some rest, before Tiffany starts screeching in the morning.” That made Junior let out a laugh.
“I thought I would have gotten used to it by now but I haven’t. I’m surprised I haven’t had an episode because of it…”
“Well, I’m glad you haven’t, do you remember the breathing exercises I told you about? I know it can sound silly, but they can be very helpful.”
Junior smiled again, having someone else around who understood his heart episodes seriously helped him to cope. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Okay, good.” Nica passed him an extra pillow before lying down, Junior quickly doing the same. They stayed in silence for a while before Nica adjusted the covers over Junior’s shoulder. She closed her eyes once again and faintly heard a mumble, "Alice was really lucky to have you…" 
Nica had gently awoken Junior that morning before Tiffany rose by stroking his cheek so he could sneak back to his room. Since ‘waking up’ to Tiffany’s high pitched greeting, he had been desperate to see Nica again. After finding out the full story about her family, Junior wanted to be there for her even more than he had before and wanted to be sure that she was alright. 
Junior was currently leaning back on the couch, waiting for Tiffany to retrieve her ‘girlfriend’ from the pink prison she kept her in. He had been given the task of setting up the only movie Tiffany ever let them watch, much to his and Nica’s dismay. Junior’s mind was occupied by wanting to see Nica again and due to that, he accidently pressed the wrong button on the remote, causing the TV to switch to the news. He thought nothing of it and was about to switch it back when he heard the news reader mention Hackensack, that was when he noticed what story was being covered. 
The investigation into the series of homicides that took place in Hackensack last November is still ongoing. In addition to a missing persons case- 
That’s when Junior saw it, his own picture looking back at him. Wait, missing?! He thought to himself, Not dead?! He didn’t hear anything else from the report, only his own heartbeat in his ears. 
She lied! How could I have been such an idiot?! I was in hospital, of course I wouldn't have been reported dead! He was getting increasingly angry. At Chucky. At Tiffany. At himself, Idiot! You absolute idiot! He continued to tell himself, he knew he needed to calm down so he wouldn’t have an episode. Focus on my breathing. Like Nica taught me. Nica! He remembered the task at hand just in time, setting up the TV and forcing a smile on his face as he continued to try and regulate his breathing again. 
By the time Tiffany had returned with a slightly drowsy looking Nica, Junior’s breathing was almost back to normal. Tiffany soon snatched the remote from his hand to put the movie on as he locked eyes with Nica. Whatever Tiffany had drugged her with, it was a small enough dose that she wasn’t completely out of it, she was trying to fight it. For now, Nica was successful enough to be able to clock that something was wrong with him and furrowed her brow in question. 
‘Later.’ Junior mouthed behind Tiffany’s back. 
That night, Nica once again lay in bed, in the horrendous pink room she continued to despise. The drugs Tiffany had given her earlier had mostly worn off now, making her far more awake than she would like to be at almost midnight. It didn’t help that she was already feeling  fidgety and desperately trying to stop herself from chewing on her fingernails. That had already given her away to Tiffany once, she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She knew there was something bothering Junior and she so badly wanted to help him but there was nothing she could do until-
Just then, she heard the familiar rattle of the door handle before being greeted by the sight of Junior sneaking in and closing the door behind him. He had the same look in his eyes that was there in the day, Nica immediately sat up. 
"Hey. What's going on, honey? What's the matter?"
"She lied. She fucking lied and I was a fucking idiot!" He accompanied his last claim with a punch to the bed before sitting himself facing Nica as she did her best to stay calm, "No. Don't talk about yourself like that."
"It's true! She told me everyone thought I was dead and I believed her. I'm a fucking missing person, I saw it on the news!" 
Nica could see the betrayal in his eyes. Junior hated lies, he hated secrets. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, the self hatred clear on his face and it broke Nica’s heart.
"Oh, Junbug…" His expression softened a little at the nickname and he lay down, resting his head in her lap. He continued to take deep breaths as Nica gently played with his hair, focusing on the unique feeling of safety he only had then. 
"I hate her!" 
"Yeah, me too." 
"We have to find a way out, I hate this place."
"We will, we'll figure something out. We’ll find a way…"
"And I need Tiffany to get what she deserves…" Junior turned his head to see a mischievous grin form on Nica's face. 
"I like the sound of that, do you have any ideas?" 
With that, Junior gave a grin practically identical to the one Nica was still wearing. 
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twyz · 1 year
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The Dream
N/A I was super excited to write this!! This is actually based on a dream I had, well at least the creature i saw in it + the ending parts were things that actually happened to me. Super scary stuff!! But I now have a cool lil oc so thanks terrifying nightmare!! I appreciate you bae 🫶
Warnings!!: Nightmare fic, body horror descriptions, hinted hallucinations, mentions of/depicted panic attacks
Genre: horror (?), one shot
Charles Lee Ray is a man who lacks many fears. Unlike most people, he isn’t afraid of death, as he’s died many a times now. Hell, he’s lost count at this point. He knows what happens after death too. Things get dark and almost suffocatingly cold before it becomes pleasantly warm, as if he was hugged by some unknown force reassuring him that he’ll be back. He usually came back, even after a few years. It’s his catchphrase, “I’ll be back”.
However, he’s not entirely fearless as many of you would assume. He’s got a handful under his belt, and two of the main ones are being watched and claustrophobia. These two affect him greatly and both can lead to the same conclusion, an extreme state of panic.
———
No one was home and it didn’t bother him that much. Chucky was a bit of an introvert so he was happy to be here by himself for once. It left him with time to unwind fully without anyone saying anything about it. Not that Tiff would care, but when a man has to relax, a man’s gonna relax completely. He was in the middle of a beer when he suddenly got hungry, which made him groan. He got up and trotted to the kitchen.
He opened the fridge, looking through it as he tried to decide what sounded the most appetizing. He figured a simple sandwich would suffice, so he grabbed what he needed and made lunch. His hands started warping into weird angles and what not, random colors swirling between his hands and forming the shape of stitches.
His eyes widened as he looked at his hands. He paused what he was doing and just watched, before blinking a few times. They color was gone aswell as the distortion. The stitch marks remained but only in the form of little scratches. He didn’t feel pain so maybe he was just seeing things? He sighed and went back to doing what he was doing.
He eventually went back to the living room to eat, sitting on a brown couch and switching on the TV. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting on, he just watched some shitty game show while he ate. He blankly stared at the screen before noticing the static that was creeping in from the edges of the tv.
“..the fuck?”
He put down what he was eating to inspect the tv more closely. The closer he got, the more heavy the static got, almost covering the entire screen. He looked at it, becoming more and more confused by the second. He suddenly looked at his hands and eyes were appearing on his skin. He made a disgusted face and tried shaking his hands to rid himself of the eyes. It didn’t work. He hit the eye on his arm as if it was a mosquito, and when he rose his hand again it was gone.
“Huh,,”
He looked back at the tv and the show was back to normal except for one thing. Along side the game contestants, there was a tall man. He was entirely black and had an extremely long neck. He had these eyes that seemed like fish eyes, but the pupils were incredibly big, almost filling the entire eye. One of the eyes were a bit more drooper than the other, falling down the creature’s face in a tear like fashion. It had a wide smile but it was like a sliver compared to the rest of its features, leaving a face looking like it only had eyes.
The contestants nor the game host didn’t interact with the creature, almost as if it wasn’t there. It stared at Chucky and Chucky stared back. His eyes were wide and they began to fill with fear. He began slowly backing up, searching for the tv remote while keeping contact with the creature. His hand searched throughout the items on the coffee table and managed to find the remote. He quickly swung his arm in front of him and turned off the tv. The creature disappeared along side the other contents on the screen.
Chucky remained watching the screen, panting a bit. What the fuck was that. He quickly scrambled to his feet, checking his arms for more eyes and sighing in relief when he didn’t find any. He sat on the couch, rubbing his arms and looking around nervously. Now he was nervous. No, nervous isn’t the right word.. he was paranoid. He was being watched by something or someone, and he couldn’t even fight back.
How would he fight back? It’s not like he could. Whatever was watching him knew exactly what it was doing and it didn’t seem like it necessarily cared about Chucky. Well,, in a weird way, it did. It wanted to scare him, and it was proving to work. He was scared and highly alert. Chucky kept his eyes on all corners of the room, just waiting for something to show up. It never did.
Eventually, Chucky built up the courage to walk through the house, looking around and making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. There was nothing. He looked almost frustrated. So there was nothing this whole time? God, did he feel stupid. He sighed and kept walking through the house before stopping by a bathroom.
He went inside and turned on the sink, making it warm temperature. He began splashing some on his face. This.. This is where everything went down hill.
He looked up in the mirror and what he saw wasn’t him,, well, it was. His face was much different. He was deathly pale and his face was covered in extremely thick vains. They pumped violently, in an almost gross manner. His teeth were distorted, covered in what looked like a black goo. His hair was darker and scragglier, looking as if it hadn’t been brushed in years. His eyes are what scared him the most. They were bloodshot, the blue in his eyes slightly contaminated by the red.
Chucky let out a frightened help, stumbling a bit and hitting his head on the wall in back of him. His breath hitched and he held the back of his head, before looking at his reflection again. It was the exact same from seconds before, but now, eyes made its way onto the wall. His eyes widened in fear and he quickly slid down the wall, covering his face and freaking the fuck out.
“Go away, GO AWAY!!”
He sat on the floor in a curled up and shaking mess. A sudden distorted tune filled his ears, causing him to flinch and look up again. The room slowly became slower and a figure entered the room. It was creature from the tv. Chucky screamed, covering his face again. Eyes began appearing on every surface imaginable, and the room was filled with a red color. Everything began distorting.
What seemed to be a distorted version of Tiffany quickly walked into the room, holding Chucky and comforting, much to his discomfort (ironically). Her voice was loud and staticky. Her own skin had a bizarre texture to it. It felt like sand but it still held up like a normal body would. Her nails were disgustingly sharp. This wasn’t Tiffany. This wasn’t anyone. No matter how much “she” comforted him, he would still scream. And then—
———
Chucky suddenly sat upwards, the feeling’s of a recovering panic attack still lingering in his chest. He panted heavily, holding his chest with one hand and trying to get his brunette hair out of his face. He was covered in sweat. Him suddenly sitting up woke Tiffany up as well.
“Sweetface? Are you okay?”
Chucky flinched before looking at her.
“Oh y-yeah,, I’m alright, just a bad dream,” He reassured her.
“Ah, well, I’m right here if you need anything baby,” she said, gently taking his hand and holding.
“Thank you, love,”
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