| Plaything | Antisepticeye x Reader

Chapter 1: A

{A/N} I got tired of just editing "I'm Here to Help You" chapters, so I'm releasing this a bit early. Don't wanna keep you guys waiting too long. I think I'll just publish a chapter every Friday. Enjoy!

As I walk home from the last day of school, I feel slightly more dejected than usual. Sure, I'm excited about the summer and not having to deal with homework, but it hadn't been the greatest week.

Mainly, it consisted of me finding out that my boyfriend, Lukas Forsman, had cheated on me for about a month with this other [girl/boy/other] who I was kinda friends with, Arendt Tegner. When I realized, I broke up with him on the spot, obviously. He wanted to get back together, but I ignored him and walked away, my friends consoling me. Though I don't regret what I did – honestly, he deserved much worse – it still hurt.

I carry the pang of betrayal in my chest now, as I walk home from school. Light summer rain begins to drizzle, accompanying my mood. The grayish tones of the world around me are comforting, and I slow my pace as I tug up my black jacket's hood. The cool air relaxes me.

With the relaxation comes a reminder of my frustration and sadness. A single tear falls from one eye, but it gets lost in the raindrops that dot my face. I stop and sit on a short stone wall. Behind it is a small grove of trees. I place my head in my hands and let out a shaky sigh. No more crying ensues, but I breathe deeply and slowly.

Footsteps from the direction I came from draw closer, stopping when they reach me.

"Hey, are you okay?" the person asks. It's a man's voice, and I can feel his eyes on me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say beginning to look up. "Just a long week, is all."

When my eyes meet his, it only takes me a second to recognize his face. How could I not? I saw it yesterday.

"You sure?" he says, Irish voice laced with concern. Brown hair sits under the hood of a black hoodie. I wave my hand in dismissal.

"Really, I'm alright." I manage a small smile to convince him. "I have a question, though," I begin. "Aren't you Sean – or, rather, Jack? Jacksepticeye?"

As I say his name, one blue eye seems to flicker to a startling green for an instant, but returns to normal. He gives a small laugh, that seems almost forced. My excitement at meeting him masks the slight unease I feel, the feeling that something's not right.

"Nice to meet a fan," he smiles. The smile shows two sharp incisors. An extremely light, nearly imperceptible, pink line is etched onto his neck.

"Well, I better get going," I say, finally acknowledging the eery vibe coming from Jack. "I shouldn't stay out too long."

As I slide down off of the stone wall and begin to walk away, an icy hand shoots out and grabs my arm. The iron grip is only slightly painful, but it's more surprising than anything. I look back at Jack, who quickly puts his arm down.

"Sorry, I thought you were about to fall," he apologizes in a steely tone. I nod, wave then walk off. Even when he's out of sight, I can still feel his piercing blue eyes trained on me. I shove my hands into my pockets and lower my head against the oncoming wind, feeling less comforted by the coldness.

Most people decide to spend the beginning of summer vacation outside with friends, going to the pool, maybe having a party.

I sit my ass down at my laptop and open YouTube. I'm behind on a Jacksepticeye series, which is a monumental problem. How can I interact with others when I'm thinking about the videos I've missed? For a moment, Jack's forced smile flashes through my mind. I shake away the memory and focus on the video.

In my darkened room, the laptop's screen is the only light. My mom's gone out of state to visit a friend, so there's no need to worry about her telling me to "go the fuck to sleep". The glowing light displays a smiling, bubbly, loud YouTuber yelling at a horror game. I've binged about seven videos, by now, but still haven't gotten tired of him. His hair is no longer green, but his bright personality more than makes up for it.

Suddenly, YouTube freezes and the video glitches. I roll my eyes and try to refresh the page. The refresh button swirls as it processes my request, but it does nothing. The screen stays the same.

As I gaze at the frozen video, Jack's head slowly turns to the camera. My chest clenches with uneasiness as his glowing eyes meet mine. One of his eyes remains blue, but the other glows bright green. His skin is a pale gray. As a sinister smile creeps onto his face, his pointed cuspids becoming visible. I begin to feel sick under his stare.

Suddenly, his hand shoots forward and slams against the screen. I jump and yelp, and my laptop falls off of my legs and to the ground, back-first. I put a hand on my chest to slow my rapid breathing. Then, I crawl to the edge of the bed to peak over.

Jack's now standing outside of the box, life size, with the face-cam, like the game is the floor and my screen is the ceiling. He presses both hands against the ceiling, and it cracks against his palms. The screen shatters, and I stumble back onto the bed, shielding my face from the spray of shards.

He rises from the screen, a shower of glass careening from his head and shoulders. My breathing quickens again. My mind goes blank as it tries to process what's unfolding.

Jack steps out of my broken laptop screen, walking toward me. I shrink back against the wall, staring at him with fright. My stomach knots. He's dressed in a black hoodie, a pine-colored shirt, and black ripped jeans. A large bloody scar stretches across his neck, still kind of bleeding.

That's... That's not Jack...

"Thanks for noticing, sweetheart," he says. I shudder. His voice is shaky and and slightly shrill.

This should be impossible. Please let me be dreaming.

The man materializes closer to me, then grabs my neck. His eyes paralyze my limbs. He closes his fist, annihilating my air flow. I begin to lose consciousness, but a sharp pain in my stomach brings me back to lucidity. A thin pocketknife is lodged in my torso, causing me to cough up blood. A steady river of the sangria liquid erupts from my mouth as a pale hand rips the knife upwards, then back down in the other direction, then out. Finally, a slash in the middle connects the two.

That's when I finally lose consciousness, his manic laughter ringing in my ears.

I shoot into a sitting position, clutching my stomach, still hearing the laughter. My stomach hurts, but there's no blood or torn shirt. My laptop had fallen off of my lap, but its screen is intact.

Though my heart is still beating rapidly, I let out a shaky laugh.

Jesus, that was vivid. I'm still an idiot for not realizing it was a dream though.

I stand and go to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower before bed. Taking off my shirt, I nearly pass out. There's a dark green "A" in my stomach just above my navel, about four inches in height.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of "Plaything" as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and votes are super appreciated. Thanks for reading!     ~Blue