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whoreforhorror · 1 year

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Slasher with an S/O who self-harms

Included: Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair

Tw: Mentions of self-harm and blood

Billy Loomis

Billy had been out with Stu as Ghostface quite late into the night. He figured you would be asleep. Still, on the off chance that you weren’t, he made his way to your house. Realistically, even if you were asleep, he was just going to join you in bed.

He got to your window to find you were up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your back to the window. He was happy to see you up because he wanted to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really usual for you to be up quite this late. He snuck in quietly, planning to try and give you a scare, and got about halfway to you before he noticed a few more details he had missed.

You were incredibly quiet, the silence of the room feeling a bit suffocating at the moment. Your head was hung low and you had a blade in one of your hands. Your arms were bleeding. You were… bleeding? What the fuck?

Billy closes in on you, achieving his original goal of giving you quite the jump scare in the process. He didn’t care about that right now. Before you really know what was happening, you’re in the bathroom, sitting while he pulls out medical supplies. Billy was silent and methodical as he cleaned each wound, making sure they weren’t too deep before wrapping your arms in gauze and medical wrap. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

He’d sit you back down on the edge of your bed, standing in front of you in silence. Even considering he didn’t really like to talk that much, he was too quiet. It put you on edge and made you worry. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried, and his face wasn’t giving anything away.

You avoided eye contact for what felt like an eternity before you came to the conclusion that you’d have to be the first to talk. “Billy-“ You couldn’t get anything out before he dropped to his knees in front of you and hugged your waist, burying his head in your stomach. You could hear him sob quietly into your shirt, and his hold on you was tight.

He cried for a while before he could gather himself enough to talk. Even then, all he said was “Why?”. He’d kill anyone responsible for making you feel this way. Point blank. No Stu, no Ghostface, no teasing or foreplay. It would be him, them, and his knife, and it would be messy. If it wasn’t that simple, he’d listen to everything you told him, anything you’d be willing to share. When you finished, he’d stand up to hold you properly and to talk in your ear. He couldn’t bring himself to talk anywhere above a whisper at the moment.

“I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. I love you so much-“ It was the first time he had told you that and you couldn’t ignore the sting created by having him say it in this moment rather than during something happy and romantic. “I need you here with me. Anything you want I’ll help you with. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, just say the word.”

Eventually, he’d get you to lay down with him and he’d hold you tight as you both slept. From now on, he’d keep a closer eye on you and anything your body language would tell him about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, when he’s really tired and you’re asleep, he’ll run his thumb over your scars and think to himself about how he’d missed the signs and what he can do to keep this from happening ever again.

Hannibal Lecter

The dinner party really wasn’t supposed to start like this. Hannibal had bought you an outfit he’d seen while he was out, and it had reminded him of you. It was a sweet thought, and you couldn’t deny it looked amazing, but there was one issue. It had short sleeves. You’d been able to get away with wearing long sleeves up until this point because of the weather, which was cold, but each day was just a bit warmer and it was to the point where it was too warm to add a jacket to an outfit. So here you were, looking at the outfit laying neatly on the bed, tears in your eyes as you thought about your arms and how Hannibal was going to react. Would he think you’re weak? Imperfect? Valueless? Would he think you were trying to damage his image?

Hannibal, who had been around for nearly twenty minutes, was growing concerned about how long it was taking you to get around. He knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if everything was alright. You responded, saying everything was ok, but he could hear the distress and shakiness in your voice as you spoke. Of course, he could. He thought about his options for a second before announcing that he was coming into the room. You didn’t want him to but there was no way to keep him out. You knew that.

“What’s wrong, my love? Do you not like the outfit?” He knew it wasn’t that, but he’d rather you tell him what was really wrong rather than him having to figure it out himself. “I can take it back if it’s not to your liking.” You’d have to choose between acting as if you hated the outfit he’d gifted you or telling him about your self-harming. You hated sounding ungrateful, especially when Hannibal was always so gracious. You had to tell him.

And when you did, he goes quiet for a moment. He’d known something was wrong but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t noticed. How hadn’t he noticed? He’s panicking internally but refuses to let it show at the moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he’s feeling fear, sadness, confusion, and anger toward himself.

He’ll do whatever is needed to make you feel comfortable. If you want to cover them, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to, he’s more than supportive and will shut down anyone who would dare say something about them.

Once dinner is done and the guests have left, he’ll question you. In that moment, you don’t have Hannibal, you have Dr. Lecter. He will want to know how long you’ve been struggling with mental health, how long you’ve been self-harming, what triggers you, how can he help, etc.

He’ll pay close attention to you after he knows. You and sharp objects, that is. He won’t lock away knives or anything of that sort. He knows that will only make you feel worse, but he’ll make sure to remember exactly where sharp objects are and how they’re positioned. He’s going to know if you do it again. Once he knows, it’s impossible to hide it. Point blank. Still, he’ll be gentle about it. He doesn’t think you’re wrong or damaged; he just thinks you need a bit of structure and help.

Rest assured, you’ll get the best care with Hannibal. He’s a psychiatrist after all, and one of the best at that. However, he might use this as a way to subtly manipulate you into sharing his… unique food tastes. After all, why harm yourself when you can take all of your emotions out on others?

Rusty Nail

Rusty is gone A LOT, that’s no secret. But, that means you’re left with a lot of time to think, and thinking leads you to, well, the predicament you’re in now. You didn’t think he was supposed to be home for another day or two, but he’s early. He’s early and your arm is leaking fresh blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also hadn’t heard him (you were too wrapped up in your thoughts) until he was opening the bedroom door.

“Darlin’?” He’s walking towards you slowly, like you’re an animal that could lash out if he moves too quickly. Gently, he takes your hands and holds up your arms to give himself a better view. He wipes his thumb across a drop of blood to convince himself that this is real, and not a sort of twisted hallucination. “Darlin’.” He says it softly, this time.

He’s incredibly gentle as he guides you to the bathroom to tend to your wounds, quiet too. You’re sat on the side of the tub and he’s kneeling before you. As he finishes, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at you before circling his arms around your waist and burring his face into your stomach. His hold is tight, and this lasts for quite a while.

When Rusty gathers himself enough to look at you again, he’ll pick you up and carry you to bed. You don’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was right, you were tired and you weren’t going to fight him on it. Even if you wanted to, the shattered look in his eyes acted as a foolproof deterrent.

As you nap, he cooks a meal for you. He wakes you up after a while to eat and draws you a bath after you’re done. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to say. For every moment he can, he’s going to take care of you like your royalty. Gradually, as the tension loosens, he’ll talk more and so will you but there is still a heavy sadness and tension in the air around him.

He’ll ask you quietly in the morning, as you two laze in bed, why you do it. Whether or not you tell him, he respects your choice. If you do tell him, he’ll want to talk through the issue. If it’s a person, he’s already thinking up ways to draw as much suffering from him as possible. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s ok. He’ll hold you close and whisper things about how much he loves you and what he would do to prove it.

When he’s on the road, he’ll call you every afternoon. Talk to him about anything, he just wants to hear you speak and get insight on your day. He wants to make sure you’re ok, as well.

He’d take you for a drive if you wanted. He absolutely loves having you in his passenger seat, riding alongside him in his rig. It makes him feel happy and possessive. One night, when he’s not on the road, he’d stock his truck with snacks, drinks, and blankets. He’d drive you out a field and stargaze with you late into the night, possibly until you fell asleep. If that happened, he’d carry you back into the truck so he could drive home.

Michael Myers

Micheal knew something had been off for a while, but assumed you’d come to him when you were ready to share. He’d grown impatient though, and decided to watch you while you thought he was away, to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

He’d caught you in the act and was shocked. Well, he felt as much shock as he was capable of feeling, which is far more than he is used to but not like a person might normally. Still, the pang of emotion was something he didn’t feel often. He’d suspected something was up but he hadn’t suspected this. Not in the slightest.

Of course, he’d seen people self-harm before. He had his time in the hospital to thank for that. He remembered how the doctors would react. Restraints, heavy surveillance, taking away anything even slightly dangerous, frequent and consistent check-ins, and medication, loads of medications. He also remembered how much the patients hated it. He had a few hours before you expected him home, which meant he had a few hours to think.

When Michael came home, you greeted him as you always did. You were cheery and excitable. It put a weird taste in his mouth and a feeling like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t sit right with him and made him very unhappy.

He was still for a moment longer than normal, catching your attention and causing you to ask if something was wrong. He responds by pointing to your arm, confusing you. He grabs your wrist and pulls up one of your sleeves, and you freeze, looking at him in the eye holes of his mask in shock.

Michael would give you the materials needed to take care of your wounds and watch as you patch yourself up. He’d teach you if you didn’t know how. After, he’d lay on the couch with you and watch movies until you fell asleep. Only after you’re asleep would he leave a kiss on each arm. A promise to you and himself that he’d do what he needed to make you happy.

Michael will be around more after he finds out. Not in an overbearing way, but he realized that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with you. He’ll bring home little gifts that he thinks you’ll like and will make you masks that he thinks fit your personality. You might even sucker him into cleaning the house or cooking from time to time.

Bo Sinclair

It was WAY too hot for long sleeves in Louisiana. It was the middle of summer, and mid-day at that. Bo thought you’d knock more than a few screws loose to be dressed for late fall at this time of year. And to be outside on top of that?

Bo had asked you to come to the church to help with some minor repairs, and you’d been more than happy to come along. Problem was, you’d had a relapse the night before and your arms were covered in fresh wounds. You were practically dying in the summer heat, but you’d risk the heatstroke to avoid Bo finding out.

“What’re you doin’ with them sleeves? You look like you’re fixin’ to go out in winter, not the Louisiana summer.” You hadn’t really thought of a cover story, which was coming back to bite you in the ass. You’d decided to say you just weren’t feeling too great, causing Bo to look back at you.

“What’s wrong sugar?” You’d responded and said you felt cold and you were tired, and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he really believed you. He put a hand on your forehead as you looked up at him. “Well, you’re burnin’ up but that’s probably because of them sleeves. Why don’t ya take it off? Certainly wouldn’t mind the view to give me a lil’ work encouragement.”

You turned him down and suggested that you’d go get some lemonade, to which he agreed was a good idea and wanted to join you. He was at a good stopping place anyway. While you were washing up to serve the lemonade, you’d had to push up your sleeves a bit to avoid getting them wet. You hadn’t accounted for Bo coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

He was about to say something when he saw them. When you felt him tense up, you tensed up too. You froze and waited for him to say something, to do anything that gave you an indication of how to respond. After a few seconds, he took his arms away from your waist and grabbed your shoulders gently, turning you around to face him.

“You know… I’ve got some scars too…” It was the first time you’d seen the scars on his wrist. It was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. You started fretting over him, asking what happened, if he was alright, who did this, and other things along that line in a continuous stream of worry. He had to interrupt you and raise his voice to get you to quiet down. He agreed that he would tell you what happened if you told him why you’d harmed yourself.

In the end, you both wound up having an hours-long conversation about both of your histories and troubles. You both talked until you passed out, holding each other close and feeling leagues closer to him than you had before. It was a rare, bittersweet moment to bond and it would result in a permanent, noticeable shift in the interactions between you two.

After the conversation, you two held each other closer. You were softer when speaking to each other, and arguments often got resolved much quicker and with fewer tears than there used to be. You both understood each other more than anyone else had, and it shows.

Bo would do the best he could to make you feel comfortable showing your arms, no matter what stage of healing they were in. Bo would even show his scars more if it helped, granted that there was no chance of visitors. If tourists said anything about it, they wouldn’t get to be a sculpture. Vincent wouldn’t be able to reconstruct them well enough if he tried. No, they’d wind up in the pit with Lester’s roadkill.

Bo would kiss your scars in intimate moments if you’d let him. It’s his way of showing that he loves every part of you, regardless of how much you like it yourself.

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angelbarelywrites · 2 months

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♡ slashers scenarios | kisses!

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i hope to do a first meeting and kisses post for all ton of slashers, so let me know who else you wanna see! there’s already some i swapped out between the two posts just because of ideas i already had

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> this brat is always begging for kisses

> he’s not really one to physically initiate

> and it’s secretly because he loves when you follow his orders

> but he loves all kinds of kisses, and he’s usually content with more chaste ones

> when you do make out though, he is sloppy

> he’s still so touch starved and sensitive

> so it can go from just a long peck to him panting and huffing surprisingly quickly

> and he likes when you praise him for it

> he loves when you pin his hands while you kiss him, laying beneath you as you straddle his chest

> but he loves pawing at you almost as much- in the same position of course

> loves receiving marks

> especially hickies on his neck, like a dumb horny teen

Micheal Myers

> he’s not huge on kissing, or other non-sexual contact

> he’ll make you ask for it

> sometimes even beg

> and then he’ll roll up his mask and kiss you, rough and breathless

> he’s a biter, on your lips, neck, anywhere

> and the more you whine the more he marks you

> all that being said

> he loves when you kiss the mask

> you can swear you’ve heard him groan a bit from it before

> he’ll feel you up as you do too, making it hot and heavy despite how one sided the contact is

> he loves grabbing your throat, pushing you against the wall and kissing you so hard it stuns you

> sometimes to get what he wants, because he’s a malewife manipulator

> but sometimes because he loves the hazy eyed face you make as he pulls away

Thomas Hewitt

> oh my god loves when you kiss him

> forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kisses through the mask, kisses pressed to his jaw, etc etc

> hell you lean over and kiss his arm and he’s giddy- in his silent and almost unnoticeable way

> he loves kissing your neck in particular

> partially because he can hide- the insecurity is hard to shake

> but also because he loves coaxing pretty noises out of you

> freaks out when he leaves marks- but also loves the way you bruise after you reassure him it’s okay

> he loves when you lie on top of him, lazily kissing him between giggles

> it makes you seem so small (because gd, he’s 6’9 and built like a brick house), and he can grab your ass all he wants

Bubba Sawyer

> might be the Biggest Kiss Enjoyer out there

> he loves giving kisses all over!!!

> but especially loves peppering your face with kisses until you’re giggling too hard to let him continue

> he also loves getting kisses, because ofc

> he likes when you kiss his tummy, on top of everything else he can be insecure about his build

> and his hands- chances are y’all also have a huge size difference, and he’s always in awe of how little your cheek is in his hand. so he loves when you lean and kiss his palm

> his favorite kisses are when he picks you up and twirls you around

> and then he settles you in his arms and kisses you sweetly

> not too sexual but intimate

Billy Lenz

> this guy 🙄 in a word, frantic

> there is no peck on the lips with Billy Lenz

> whatever your intention, if you don’t pull away literally immediately, it’s getting dirty fast

> he’s all tongue and teeth and giggles

> like Brahms he’s incredibly pent up

> but baby boy is unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) aggressive

> marks you up like it’s his job- hickies and bites and even sometimes bruises from holding your hips too hard because he’s stronger than he looks

> grabs your hair and tugs your head back to look at you and tell you how pretty you look and babble weird incoherent shit

> he loves you in his lap, facing him and practically grinding up on you as he lick lick licks your neck and any other skin he can between kisses

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lilmoonbunny · 28 days

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Crush; Bo Sinclair

Bo has a crush, but so does Lester.

Warnings: Jealous!Bo, swearing.

Bo Sinclair was an asshole, anyone who knew him knew this fact, however, there was a side of him – albeit rare – that could be kind and loving, although, there was only one person who he deemed worthy of this side.

Y/N was everything that Bo was not: sweet, kind, caring, and loving. She was any man’s dream. Perhaps this was why Lester craved her, much to Bo’s dismay.

Whilst Bo’s initial craving for her was lust, it soon transformed into genuine feelings, something which terrified him. He didn’t believe that he could love, nor did he think he was worthy of being loved.

“Bo,” Y/N whined, capturing the mechanics attention as he lay beneath a truck. She watched as the man rolled out to look at her, oil clinging to his face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m bored,”

With a roll of his eyes, Bo pushed himself back underneath the truck, turning his attention back to the job at hand. He enjoyed her company he truly did, but there were times when he couldn’t stand to be around her. It was nothing personal, he just didn’t know how to control himself.

The revealing clothes that she was wearing in the summer heat left little to the imagination and Bo almost wished he could take a picture of her, capturing her in all her glory, not that he would ever admit he saw her that way to anybody besides himself; he often struggled to admit it to himself.

He could feel her eyes on him, although he didn’t know why she was so focused on him, but it made it hard to focus. What was supposed to be an easy job was suddenly made harder with her focus solely on him; he almost felt insecure. Almost.

Bo knew he was both attractive and charming, but when around her he couldn’t help but wonder if she saw him the same way. In fact, that was something he pondered often. She was Vincent’s friend, that was how he came to know her and how she ended up residing in Ambrose after a ‘complication’ with her previous partner.

He remembered the nights she spent crying whilst Vincent comforted her, both with hugs and pats on the head which Bo found odd as Vincent was not one for physical touch. Bo would never admit he was jealous, and besides, he wasn’t aware of his feelings then.

The feelings came rushing to him one night as he found her in the kitchen. She was making a coffee after giving up on sleep a little after her breakup. Tears stained her cheeks, be it from the bad memories or the breakup itself, and Bo couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or seen somebody cried; maybe it was Lester when they were younger, he wasn’t sure.

“Sorry,” she had apologised to him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Bo hesitated for a moment, something that he wasn’t used to. Sure, he had talked to her a few times, but rarely alone. He wasn’t big on conversation with new people, let alone friends of Vincent.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Came his response, shocking them both.

“Are you sure?”

“Course, s’pose it’s your house too for now.”

Little did he know, she would become a permanent resident in the Sinclair household.

“Thank you, Bo,” she smiled sweetly at him, and despite the tears staining her cheeks, he found her beautiful. He knew in that moment that he wanted her in more than a sexual way.

“Why are you staring?” Bo asked from beneath the truck.

Y/N paused for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form an answer. “Admiring the view, I guess.” She said with a shrug and Bo could feel his cheeks warming but he simply blamed it on the heat; ignorance is bliss, after all.

Never in his life had he thought he would feel this way and it was terrifying to say the least.

“Oh, hi, Lester!” Y/N grinned, unable to see how Bo’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, Y/N/N. How’re ya?” Bo could hear the smile as Lester spoke and his frown grew.

Y/N’s attention turned from Bo to Lester, red dusting her cheeks from the summer air, and maybe because she was called out for staring.

“I’m good! Me and Bo are just working. Well, he’s working and I’m just sitting here.” A giggle fell from her lips and both the men’s hearts warmed.

As Lester and Y/N’s conversation continued, Bo found himself zoning out, anger forming in his chest. He hated them interacting, having known about Lester’s feelings for his ‘crush’ for a while now. Even if Lester wouldn’t admit it, Bo knew; he always knew.

Rolling out from beneath the truck, Bo spoke. “If you two want to carry on talking, can you do it somewhere else!?” He snapped, immediately regretting it upon seeing the way Y/N’s face dropped. He did debate apologising, but his ego was too big to do so.

She paused for a moment before lifting herself to her feet, silently nodding before walking away, Lester following like a lost puppy.

Bo’s anger continued to fester for the rest of the day, even as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Hi, Bo,” Y/N greeted him, but it went ignored as Bo removed his boots.

It was safe to assume that Bo was in one of his usual bad moods and Vincent had signed to her that it was best to ignore him when he got like this when she first came to stay. It was the unspoken rule of the house, so she turned her attention back to the television in front of her.

Bo, of course, was paying attention and seeing that Lester had left had his bad mood calming slightly, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A quiet sigh of relief was next, although it went unheard by the woman that held his affections.

“I see your little boyfriend left,” Bo broke the silence.

“Boyfriend?”

“Lester.”

“He’s not my boyfriend…?” It was safe to say that Y/N was confused.

“He seems quite smitten on you.”

“I don’t see him that way.”

Bo relaxed some more and this time it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, nor did his dilated pupils. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what that meant.

As she stood up, a plan formed in her mind, but if she was wrong about this, she risked ruining everything, including their close friendship.

What is life without a little risk? She reasoned with herself.

Bo watched her as she moved closer, eventually standing in front of him and toying with the collar of his thin jacket, fixing it despite knowing that he would remove it soon.

“There is somebody I see that way, though,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile that had Bo’s heart racing.

“Is that so?” He muttered, watching her closely.

“Yeah,” her smile grew, hands reaching out to grasp his face, taking it slowly and gently so that he could pull away at any time.

But he didn’t pull away, in fact, he couldn’t resist any longer and his face dived down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

She could taste a mix of cigarettes and beer on his lips, but it wasn’t something she minded; it was very Bo and she loved him for who he was, flaws and all.

Whilst her hands gently cupped his cheeks, Bo’s reached out to lightly grasp both her waist and the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her. It was something he didn’t want to pull away from. The sensation of her lips on his and his hands on her had his heart beating a million miles per minute and the feeling itself gave him a high better than any drug ever could.

When they separated, Y/N’s gaze turned downwards, a dark blush coating her cheeks.

“I didn’t know if that was a good idea,” she admitted. “I’m hoping it was.”

Bo paused for a moment, feeling as though he was unable to speak. “I think it was,” his voice was quiet yet filled with emotion which was unusual for the man. “As long as you liked it, then I think it was, at least.”

“I did like it,”

Bo smiled, and whilst it was a small smile, it was noticeable to her.

“So did I.”

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

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❝leave him alone❞

✭ pairing : thomas hewitt x reader

✭ fandom : texas chainsaw massacre

✭ summary : (y/n) and a few friends are backroading through Texas and stop at a gas station for gas where (y/n) sees a young man being bullied, well she isn’t one to stand by

✭ authors note : you may have seen some photos of him unmasked but if you haven’t Thomas doesn’t have a nose, he continuity suffers from a facial disfigurement and a skin disease that eats away most of his nose. Due to this disfigurement, his muteness and mental retardation (carried over from the first series), Hewitt is bullied as a child.

✭ slasher masterlist

As (y/n) and her friends ventured through the Texas countryside, the thrill of backroading filling the air, they eventually pulled into a quiet gas station. The sun was setting, casting a warm and golden hue across the landscape.

As they parked, (y/n) couldn't help but notice a scene that caught her attention. A young man, Thomas Hewitt, sat in the driver's seat of a car, his head down, his demeanor downcast. A group of local teens stood near the car, laughing and taunting him.

A sense of injustice flared within (y/n), and without a second thought, she made her way over to where the teens were harassing Thomas. With a firm tone and an unwavering gaze, she interrupted their cruel taunts. "Hey, cut it out. Leave him alone."

The teens exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by her assertiveness. They begrudgingly backed off and dispersed, their laughter fading into the background. (y/n) turned her attention to Thomas, her expression one of genuine concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice kind and understanding.

Thomas lifted his gaze to meet hers, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. Despite his inability to speak due to his mute condition, he appreciated her intervention more than words could express. He nodded, his eyes avoiding direct contact as a blush tinged his cheeks.

(y/n) smiled at him, unperturbed by his appearance. His disfigurement and the skin disease he struggled with didn't faze her; she saw beyond the surface and treated him with the respect and kindness he deserved.

"Don't let their comments get to you," she said gently, her tone reassuring. "You're stronger than that. And honestly, I think you look handsome."

Thomas's blush deepened, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe that someone would find him attractive despite his condition. He tried to respond, making noises and using hand gestures to communicate his gratitude, but he found it challenging.

(y/n) smiled warmly, understanding his struggle. "It's okay, no need to say anything. Just know that you're not alone, and there are people out here who see you for who you are."

Thomas's eyes met hers again, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. Gratitude, relief, and a newfound sense of hope blossomed in his heart. He might not be able to speak, but his appreciation for her actions and kind words transcended language.

As (y/n) rejoined her friends, Thomas watched her with a mix of admiration and amazement. Her act of kindness had touched him deeply, and he felt a connection he had never experienced before. And as he drove away from the gas station, he couldn't help but smile, grateful for the unexpected encounter that had brightened his day.

As the car pulled away from the gas station, the sound of the engine and the fading scenery slowly became the backdrop to Thomas's thoughts. He replayed the brief encounter with (y/n) in his mind, a mixture of emotions swirling within him.

A little while later, the door to the gas station opened again, and Thomas's brother entered the car, bringing with him a small bag of snacks. He settled into the driver's seat, casting a curious glance at Thomas.

"So, who was that girl you were talking to?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Thomas turned to his brother, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gestured and signed with his hands, "She defended me. She told those guys to stop. She said I looked handsome."

His brother chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

Thomas nodded, his blush deepening as he remembered (y/n)'s words. He had never expected someone to be so kind to him, let alone call him handsome. It was a foreign and exhilarating feeling.

His brother's grin widened, and he gave Thomas a playful nudge with his elbow. "Seems like someone's got a crush."

Thomas playfully swatted at his brother's arm, a small smile breaking through his usually reserved demeanor. He couldn't help but feel a sense of lightness, a departure from the usual challenges he faced due to his condition.

While his brother drove, Thomas continued to think about (y/n), the mysterious and kind stranger who had brightened his day. He replayed her words and the way she had defended him, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.

As the car continued down the road, Thomas couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter might have been more than just a passing moment. He had felt a genuine connection with (y/n), and he couldn't help but wonder if their paths might cross again in the future. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of friendship and even something more.

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angels2000blogs · 11 months

Text

RZ Michael Myers x patient reader

reader is at Smith's Grove Warren County Sanitarium Michael is at and she is pushed around by the nurses and crys when yelled at.

Tw : abuse, abuse mentioned ( or implied) , Michael blames himself for leaving boo and thinks she is being hurt ( he wasn't told about his mom or boo ) , murder ( it is deserved) , swearing,

yes Michael sees us as a boo

I'm so sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors 💗

you had only been at Smith's Groves for 5 months and you had yet to make any friends.

you understood that it was a mental hospital and the chance of making friends were slim to none but you wanted to try anyway, your first two attempts went badly and ended with you getting a big black bruise on your right arm and lower cheek.

when you had confronted the nurses to ask for help with your bruises you were told to ' get over it ' and ' you should be thankful they didn't't kill you ' and never got any ointments, you had to learn that the nurses weren't going to be much help in those situations so you choose to keep to yourself to avoid getting hurt.

as much as you hatted being alone with only your therapist to talk to it was better than getting hurt, you hadn't know this before you were forced into smiths Grove but there were many criminals also seeking treatment here; you wish you were made aware of this factor, considering it would have changed your argument on why you shouldn't go to a mental institution.

but here you were sitting at your small desk drawing small useless drawing of cats and mice that your therapist would stupidly try and find a deeper meaning to.

as you began to draw your firth cat your door was aggressively opened and made a loud noise, scaring you and made you mess up.

you took a deep breath and looked at your now destroyed drawing, you hatted not being able to finish your drawings but you hatted getting yelled at for being late to breakfast more.

you slowly sat up knowing who was opening the door without even having to look , it was one of the nurses that was in charge of you.

you turned around and walked towards an strange face , one you hadn't met before.

you just have stoped walking towards him because the next thing you knew he was yelling.

" Jesus Christ, can you go any slower !" the man screamed as you quickly walked towards you and grabbed your arm and yanked you towards the door.

you weren't sure what was happening.

as soon as he yelled tears filled your eyes and you tried not to allow more tears to replace the ones already falling.

you my not be able to see well but you could feel the arm that grabbed you and yanked you out of your room.

you knew it was best not to resist, so you silently follow the man who still hasn't let you go.

he didn't let you go until you were sitting in your normal place at the small breakfast table.

" now just sit the fuck down and stop crying for god sakes, I didn't even do anything" he whisper yelled right next to your face.

than he was gone, he walked away leaving you crying at breakfast.

not long after that food was put in front of you, you had no appetite so you didn't move.

your head between your raised shoulders and your eyes stuck as a spot on the ground.

you managed to stop crying a little after breakfast was out on the table but your appetite remanded the same. so you didn't even bother picking up your stupid plastic cutlery.

if you were being honest you were fine with just staring at the spot on the floor forever if you were allowed to , but like most things you got comfort in it was taken away.

" why aren't you eating?" a female nurse asked you .

you knew this nurse, she was nice enough but still carried a attitude.

you lifted you head to meet her eyes and gave a small shrug not wanting to speak.

she rolled her eyes and took away the food.

you kept your head up now looking at everyone else talking to there friends or sitting quietly by myself, you eyes accidentally locked with a tall man sitting at a separate table with gards all around him.

he was wearing a blueish long cardigan and a white uniform like the rest of the patients.

looking at the tall man you suddenly become very aware of the fact you went wearing a bra and felt very exposed.

you returned to normal, your head below your shoulders and your eyes focused on a spot on the ground.

you're not sure how long breakfast went on for, but you do know that the male nurse was once again grabbing your arm and trying to pull you somewhere.

" are you my new nurse?" you quietly question, hoping he would say something along the lines of 'no' but lady luck wasn't on your side today.

" fucking hell! speak up bitch" he yelled and pushes you away from him, it didn't hurt but you started tearing up.

you quickly looked around trying to see if there were any nurses around to help you but there was only 3 gards around the big man.

you were quick to realize no one was going to help you .

though, that wasn't how Michael Myers saw this situation at all.

although Michael doesn't get angry often this made his blood boil .

he wasn't sure but in his eyes you were a exact same as little boo.

and he could just sit down and let someone that reminded him of boo get hurt again.

but for now he will just stay put, he's watching as you slowly get up and whisper a small ' sorry '.

" god sakes, if I knew any better I'd say you're scared of me ? you scared slut ?" the man says in a sarcastic voice.

you stay still

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

Michael stands picking up one of his gards and throws him across the room.

'𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘰𝘰'

the other gards try and reach to there batons but don't get a chance before there also killed.

Michael slams one of there heads into a wall until he hears a cracking noice, he's not sure if it's the concrete or his skull;

and he doesn't care.

the other gard is thrown on to the ground were the man with a caved skull lays, there's another crack.

Michael looks up to you only to find you're looking into his eyes.

you tillt your head slightly.

the male nurse is trying to call for help on his wally talky which he keeps dropping; he's shaking so much he can't think anything in his hands.

as soon as Michael begins walking towards the two of you the nurse pushes you into Michal and runs of.

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦'

but Michael don't want you dead , no.

he catches you and carefuly moves your body onto chair.

Michael once again starts walking towards the stupid man.

the nurse was trying to open the door but he was blissfully unaware that it was locked.

all the doors were locked why Michael would get angry to attempt to lessen the number of dead.

the nurse was screaming and bashing on the door, not that it would do anything.

Michael grabbed the nurses arm and pulled him back dislocating his shoulder with a creck.

the nurse now on the floor tried to crawl away from the significantly larger man who had no intention of stopping.

Michael gave him no time to get away before he picked the nurse by his head and smashed it back into the hard concrete floor and repeated the motion.

all you could do was sit in horror as the sound of the cracks filled the room, the blood pooling at the nurses now caved in head only grew bigger and bigger.

you weren't sure when he died but you understood he stopped screaming at the second blow.

the screams re looped though your head , the only thing you could remember was the screams: they were ear piercing.

Michael picked up the un- recognizable head and pushed it down one more time before standing up.

Michael whipped his blood stained hands and walked towards you, you were not scared; not that you felt safe , but you were so drained you couldn't help not feeling anything at all.

he sat down next to your trembling body and put a significantly larger hand on your shoulder.

the guards came into the room ten minutes later, you and Michael hadn't moved an inch.

@slzshers

#slasher fanfiction #slashers imagine #slashers #slash fanfiction #slash fic #michael myers #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #holloween #halloween #halloween 2 1981

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cherryskyies · 5 months

Text

Changes

Bo Sinclair x reader

Word count: 600

This is probably shitty ngl not proofread or nuffin but it’s all i got this writers block is out of control.

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

Your eyes glance over the familiar scenery, nothing has changed on the outside, but you’re sure their wax collection has grown.

The whole drive to Ambrose you were worried they may have left, more specifically he had left, but one look around told you the three of them were still here — the fresh tire tracks leading to Bo’s old truck giving it away.

It’s an odd feeling you notice, standing so uncomfortably in the place you once called home so confidently.

His voice comes out of nowhere, direct and full of shock. “What are you doin’ here?” he asks, standing a foot behind you with a look of desiderium — not that you notice when you turn to face him. “You swore you’d never come back.” he reminds, sounding more stern.

You feel foolish in your response as regret begins to pool in your chest. “Came to see old friends.”

It sounds silly now that you’ve said it out loud and you can’t help but to step back in response to Bo’s rapid strides. “You didn’t bring the police on over with ya? If you did I swear“ he threatens, finger pointed in your face as his eyes bore into your own. “Tell me right now woman!”

You stumble over your words, this isn’t the Bo you know; or should say knew, reminding yourself you don’t know him anymore. “I didn’t — I swear I’d never do something like that.” you respond, hands shaking. But you can see he is still on edge, seemingly no trust in you or your words.

Bo steps back with a grunt, his voice much rougher when he speaks. “Guess time will tell.” but the look of pure hate doesn’t leave his eyes and it makes you uncomfortable; all of this anger was once love and the man standing before you is a stranger you knew so well.

“Would it be better if I left?” you ask, wondering why you showed up at all. “I didn’t think this through.”

He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “You never really do,” he responds, voice calmer as he watches your face heat up. “I’m sure Lester and Vincent would love to see you.” he adds, gesturing to you to follow him towards the house.

The house has remained a picture perfect copy of the last time you saw it which you found cute but unsurprising. None of the boys liked change. “They wouldn’t admit it to me, but I know they’ve missed you.” and in a way it feels as though he is admitting he missed you too and he curses himself for being so open with you. “It’s been quiet.”

You smile, moving from the entry towards the worn couch. “Not much has changed” you note, eyes landing on a polaroid picture sitting on the coffee table. The four of you were standing in it smiling, your arms around Bo’s waist. “I shouldn’t have come” you mutter apologetically, eyes tearing away from the photo and to the man in front of you.

But he’s glad to see you and he knows the others would be as well; he’d never admit that though. “You’re right,” he agrees, words betraying thoughts. “But you can leave tomorrow, you can’t drive in the dark.”

Bo remembers the two times he ever let you drive at night and neither ended well — one truck later he swore to never let you drive in the dark again.

You’re hesitant to accept his offer, nervous for what it would mean. “I’ll be fine, I’ve gotten better y’know.” It’s a lie and he doesn’t need to know that, but somehow he sees right through you and snorts at the slim possibility.

“Like I said,” he begins, eyes locking on to your own, “You can leave tomorrow.” and you nod.

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darkpeacemusic · 1 year

Note

Stealing the slashers weapons and bedazzling it

For Eg, Freddy's glove, Michals knife, Bubbas Chainsaw, Brahms’s..Doll?? Jasons machete

Lol I love this request.

Slashers Reaction to their S/O bedazzling their weapons

CW: Cussing on Freddy's part, mentions of murder and blood

Characters: Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, Brahms, Jason Voorhees

Freddy Krueger

"Yo, bitch? Have you seen my glove?" Freddy yelled across from the bathroom before going to the bedroom to look for it.

He searched through all the drawers of his wardrobe before he eventually found his glove covered in all kinds of gems and colored pink.

"What the fuck is this?!" Freddy would yell after seeing what happened to his glove.

He would look all over the house for you until finding you in the living room.

"Did you do this?!" Freddy asked.

"Of course I did, Freddy. I thought your glove needed a little more color." you reply to his question.

"How the fuck am I gonna kill people now?! I don't want to go around killing people with this!" he screams at you.

"Well, how you try it on, asshole?" you said, calmly.

"Fine but you own me another glove!" he said before trying the glove on.

After he did that, he looked at his hand and somehow he didn't get sick to his stomach too much.

he then looks at you and says, "You're lucky I love you stupid bitch. Otherwise, I'd kill you by now."

He would probably use the glove anyways because how would you even find a glove like that? Whenever he will kill his victims, he will definitely brag about how he looked fabulous while doing so.

Michael Myers

Michael looked desperately for his knife, praying to god you didn't steal it to kill people again cause it was his job only.

He eventually finds it to see that it has been covered in glitter and sequins.

He would be very confused about why his knife is now a beautiful mess only to notice you putting your bedazzler away.

He would come at you very aggressively scaring you a bit.

He points to the knife and points at you like he was saying "Did you do this?"

"I thought your plain knife to be too boring so I wanted to make it pretty," you say to him.

He sighs in anger before walking off to cool down.

You were afraid that he was mad at you again.

A few hours went by before he came back with the bedazzled knife that was covered in blood.

"You used it???" you ask to him as he was standing in the doorway.

He exhales in response.

"You like it?" you ask again.

He nods in response before pointing at himself and at you.

"it reminds you of me?"

He nods in response as he holds you close to you with the knife still down and you kiss him in affection.

"I love you, Michael." You say as he sighs lovingly in response.

Bubba Sawyer

Poor sweet baby is panicking when he is looking for his chainsaw. He was worried that one of his brothers stole and hid it just to mess with him.

He went to his room to find it completely covered in sequins and glitter.

He would be very confused and worried about why his chainsaw was now covered in that stuff before he saw you walking by.

He grunted for your attention and you looked at him.

He showed you the chainsaw and grunted in a confused manner.

"Oh, I did that. I thought your chainsaw looked too ugly and decided to brighten it up a bit." you explain.

The sweet baby would be so happy that you thought of him. He wouldn't even focus on the fact that his chainsaw was ruined and hugged you tightly, snorting in happiness.

He would most definitely use the chainsaw cause it would make the killings more fun. Of course, he would have his parents permission to do so.

The brothers will taunt him endlessly when he chooses the bedazzled chainsaw until you glare at them do stop and they do.

Bubba would do everything to clean the chainsaw in between killings as he doesn't want to ruin your work. He loves you and the work that you do.

Brahms

"Y/N, have you seen my doll anywhere?" Brahms asks you before you quickly put away your bedazzler.

He soon notices his doll with his clothes covered in beads and sequins.

"Y/N, why is my doll's clothes different?"

"I wanted to give your doll a bit of color. Do you like it?" you ask him.

"I.... love it." He says.

"You do?" you ask.

"I think it looks beautiful just like you." he says honestly.

He will definitely keep it but like Bubba, he would do everything to keep it clean so he can continue to be a good boy for you.

He would hug it every night he would go to bed because it would remind him of you much to your happiness.

It would even make the trespassers of his home be too distracted by the doll before he kills.

He's basically grateful that he has someone like you in his life.

Jason Voorhees

Jason grunted in anger as he looked all over his shack for his machete.

After finding it on the table, he sees that it has been bedazzled in bright colors.

He turns over to the bedroom where you were putting the bedazzling kit under the bed before he kicks the door down in anger.

"Who got away this time?" you asked nervous.

He will grab you by the shoulder and pulls you to face him.

He pulls his machete out and exhales in anger.

"Umm, yes I did that."

He growls lowly.

"But I just wanted to brighten up your machete. Like come on Jason. Your mom would agree with me that it's time to change your weapon up a bit."

He growls before he walks away in anger with the machete in his hand.

"Wow, such a grumpy pants." you thought, rolling your eyes.

He would probably try to throw it away before his mother would yell at him not to do it.

"Jason! Don't do it! She did it for you!" His mom would scold.

Jason looked at the machete before sighing and nodding.

He would probably try to use it on the first set of victims until he realizes that this may not be so bad.

After killing all the teenagers, he walks back home and puts his machete on his stand.

"You didn't throw it away?" you asked from the doorway to the bedroom.

He shakes his head no and turns to you.

He hugs you tightly and you hug him back as he gives you that loving gaze before kissing you.

He may have not liked what you did but he always will love you for thinking about him.

#jason voorhees #slashers #bubba sawyer #freddy krueger #bubba sawyer x reader #slashers x you #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #brahms x y/n #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader

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noxnephilim · 10 months

Note

Hello M! slashers for a crazy boy s/o ♡

Not sure what you meant, but enjoy

PRETTY LITTLE PSYCHO

Your personality attracted them. When society deems you a problem, a danger to its very foundation, they are there to praise the very soil you walk in

You aren't afraid of the unconventional, quite the opposite. You look for it, never shying away from the gruesome facet of reality.

Hannibal is one such admirer: he knew from the first time he met you at the library that you were different. It took just a glance. Predators knew each other after all. In your eyes he saw a dangerous curiosity. He knew you knew who he was, yet you held such fondness that he could not help himself. He longed for you, deeply. And it made his heart beat faster when he found sculptures dedicated to him. A declaration of love, bathed in the blood of the lambs. Pure and unconditional love.

You were like a God walking amongst the proselytes, and he was your fervent disciple. You grace his presence with love and blood, and he can't help but offer you more of his arts, hoping to declare in the most candid way what he felt. Love was ablaze, and the heart he served you was the loudest form of love you have ever been graced by

Jesse knew you were different, in fact you never questioned why he had so many snuff films or why he had to go away on business trips so often. Nor the numerous and quite impressive collection of knives. He told you one night what he did and you only shrugged, asking him what he wanted for dinner instead.

He fell hard, and he asked you on such day to marry him. Blood reflected off your shirt, making you an ethereal sight. An angel of war, born by steel and blood. His own little psycho. He loved you, so much that it hurt. And the little piggy you gifted him for his anniversary? If he ever had doubts about your dedication, they vanished that day. Killing together had never been so intimate and meaningful

Asa studied you. A teacher of taxidermy was so unlikely that he had to understand you. You were like him: you kept to yourself, never going out of your way to be a social bee, and yet when you taught how to preserve dead bodies, your eyes gained a different shine. They glowed in the dark. He wanted to see for himself the difference, he attended one of your classes. When your gaze locked, he felt a shiver go down his spine. Impossible. He was a killer, he was cold and tough, yet a mere glance from you put fear in his heart. But something hidden behind it told him something else.

He had to know you better. He knew he had been recognised, he felt it in the way you talked to him, almost like you knew what he did as a hobby. But he didn't expect to be asked out in the most macabre yet fascinating way possible. A new addition to the hotel was left for him, in the form of one of his favourite arachnids. Only you knew that one, and only you could do something like this.

He had never been more glad to be married. He didn't have to hide with you, he could talk with excitement about the projects he had for the hotel, and you would stand there smiling, admiring the man in front of you with such fervent regard and passion. He had found his equal, his partner, his own little butterfly.

#slashers x male reader #slasher community #slashers x gn reader #slashers fanfiction #slashers imagine #hannibal #the collector #jesse cromeans

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osirisisv · 2 years

Note

I have come to shamelessly request a continuation of the 'marshmallow hell' art you did for the slashers x reader but ✨️Sinclair boys edition✨️ if you're ever up for it! 💞

Sorry for taking so long 🥺

Marshmallow hell part. 2✨✨✨

You can see the part 1 here!

Vincent takes so much working on his art that he even forget he has to eat, sometimes you have to convince him to take a rest 😏❤️

bo had a stressful day as usual, and there is nothing more he wants to do than cuddle with you and forget all his problems ❤️

there is nothing better for Lester than having you on his lap and talking about his day while he snuggles on your chest, he loves it 💕💕

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slashingdisneypasta · 8 months

Text

Imagine

Ghostface attempting to hit on you using Slasher references. Particularly... Freddy and Chucky quotes. i mean ghostface is a slasher movie nerd. chucky and freddy are his only point of reference. this poor obsessed fool.

"Lets suck face!" "Yeahhhh lets not."

"Hey it ain't the size that counts... its what you do with it." "You keep telling yourself that Stu."

*Dumps a bucket of water on himself* "How's this for a wet dream?" "Dry."

"Wanna play?" "Oh sweet jesus Billy, no- "

"Your eyes say no no but my mouth says yes ye- " "You're getting worse!! You're getting so much worse!! That man has better lines then THAT ONE- "

"You know what they say~ You just can't keep a good guy down~... " *Not facing him* *Deep breath through the nose* "... I swear to god if you're gesturing to your crotch again I am going to- "

Even better if this is set in the Horror House XD

#Ghostface x Reader #Billy Loomis x Reader #Stu Macher x Reader #Imagine #Horror Villains #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Slashers Imagine

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whoreforhorror · 1 year

Note

Can i ask for poly! billy & stu having an s/o that's been killed infront of them?? i've been finding some angsty poly ghostface lately >.<

Did I cry while writing this? Maybe. I’m very much a person who has to have a happy ending so this was super sad to write. Thank you for letting my break my own heart, Anon. Hope you enjoy!

Poly! Ghostface when their S/O is killed in front of them:

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. You were supposed to have stayed hidden until they were done. The three of you were going to watch movies after. Your whole afternoon was going to be so fun but now… that couldn’t happen now.

You were hidden in an upstairs bedroom as Billy and Stu took care of four victims. It was supposed to be a pretty quick endeavor before your date. The victims had gotten a bit too close to figuring out Ghostface’s identity for comfort and had to be dealt with.

One of the four had slipped upstairs without the boys seeing and had found you while attempting to hide. You were the perfect leverage piece. They grabbed you by the neck of your shirt and drug you out of the closet. It crossed your mind to scream for the two but settled on yelling at the victim because you couldn’t risk exposing your boyfriends.

Stu was the first to hear you screaming for someone to get off. He let out a rushed “Shit.” before sprinting up the stairs. Billy watched him, confused. He drug the blade through the second half of his third victim’s stomach and dropped the crying, gurgling person to listen closely. He too heard your yelling and took off up the stairs like Stu had.

The door was locked when Stu reached the upstairs bedroom, so he started running full speed at the door and slamming his shoulder into it. The door cracked and bent but ultimately wasn’t close to giving in. Billy reached the door soon after, grabbing Stu by the shoulder and pushing him out of the way so he could kick the door just under the lock, breaking the lock and door handle, and giving the boys access to you and the last victim.

The boys barged into the room and froze, seeing the victim standing behind your body like it was a shield, a knife to your throat. They were manic, laughing, and beginning to ramble about how they had “finally won” and how Billy and Stu had “killed their friends, so now it was time for a little karma.”

Stu’s throat was shut tight, and he could feel the implication of tears causing his eyes to burn. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go down. Billy felt his shoulders tighten and square up as he readjusted his grip on his own knife. “They don’t have anything to do with this. Let them go.”

The victim laughed at that. “Neither did my friends but here we are.” The blade dug into your throat as they applied more pressure. The urge to squirm and fight your way out was incredibly strong, overwhelmingly so. Billy and Stu were a few feet away, and you wanted nothing more than to be in their arms and forget this had ever happened.

You wanted a hug. You wanted to lay on their laps while watching that movie, Stu playing with your hair while Billy ran his hand up and down your leg. You wanted to see Stu crane his head down to give you that goofy smile when one of his favorite parts of a movie was coming up. You wanted to hear Billy rambling on about the killer’s technique or how something should have gone. As you thought of that, you almost wanted to laugh. Billy would be so upset if this were a movie. He’d go on about the million ways in which this situation could have been avoided or what you could do to get out, but your mind was drawing blanks as to a solution

“Guys? I- I’m scared.” The shaky, raspiness of your voice surprised you. You wanted a glass of water. The victim adjusted their grip on you, making the blade dig impossibly more into your throat and causing a small cut to form as they laughed at your fear.

“Awww, isn’t that a shame? You’re scared? Imagine how I felt.” The victim wasn’t budging as the boys turned to look at each other, masks hiding their expressions and doing nothing to soothe you. You wanted to know what they were thinking, if they were planning something or had a way to get you out. The silent, screaming masks gave away nothing.

Stu was in full panic mode, opening and closing his fist because he couldn’t think of another outlet for his anxiety and adrenaline. He couldn’t lose you. His love for you was bordering on obsession. He NEEDS you around him or he’d lose his mind. He loved Billy too but they were both incredibly incomplete without you and they both knew it.

Billy ran a thousand scenarios and options in his head, coming up with nothing clever or thought out that could help. He’d seen a hundred movies with this scenario and nothing had ever worked. He shifted his feet, readjusting his stance and knife, launching himself at you and the victim. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you. He COULDN’T lose you.

The victim reacted, dragging the blade heavy and firm across your neck from one artery to the other before shoving you into Billy who caught you on instinct. Stu broke out of his frozen panic and jumped at the victim, stabbing him over and over and over and over. The face, the throat, the chest, the stomach, nowhere was safe from Stu as his panic flickered into rage.

Pain blossomed and throbbed in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes and your hands shot up in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. You fell to the ground in Billy’s arms, him coming down with you. His hands joined yours on your throat, your blood still pouring out. You tried to talk, to call out to Billy and tell him that everything's going to be ok. You wanted to tell him you were going to be fine and the three of you would find a way to fix this. You couldn’t say any of that, and it hurt your soul more than the cut on your throat could ever.

Stu joined the two of you, on his knees next to Billy and yanked the mask off himself and Billy, finally letting you see their faces. You wish you hadn’t. The boys were panicking. For the first time since you’d known them, they looked truly panicked, Stu’s class-clown act and Billy’s tough guy persona seemed miles away in the moment and you nearly couldn’t believe these were the same boys you knew, the same boys you’re dating.

The room around you was getting cold quickly, and you were so tired. It wasn’t a good sign and you knew it. While you hadn’t died before, you knew that this is what it felt like. You were going to die and you couldn’t help but let a smile fill your expression. Sure, you were going to die but it was in the arms of the two people you loved more than the world itself. You’d give up anything to be with them at any moment and, of all the ways your time could come to an end, being with the boys, your boys made it hurt just a little less.

Your weight shifted forward and Billy held you in his lap. “I’m so, so sorry. It should have been us. It should have been me. I’m so sorry, love. Please forgive me, forgive us. We’re so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Billy repeated this like a mantra.

Stu was in a similar state. “No. No no no no no no no. Please, I need you, baby. We can make it, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to get you patched up then we’ll watch a movie. We’ll even let you pick this time, no complaints. You just have to stay with us. Please, please please please stay with us.”

You couldn’t speak, but the room was growing so dark. Your eyelids were so heavy and you couldn’t stay up for much longer. You took your hands off your throat. They weren’t helping much anyway. Stu moved almost instantly to replace where your hands had just been with his own, panic and questions flashing across his face in rapid succession.

You put a bloodied hand on the side of each boys’ face, stroking their cheek with your thumb just slightly. You leaned your head forward, resting your forehead on Billy’s pulling Stu with all the strength you could muster so he’d join his forehead with yours as well.

You coughed and gurgled, clearing your throat the best you could. You couldn’t make yourself stay awake any longer. “B- Billy… Stu… I love you” A fit of coughing took over for a minute. “I love you b- both an- and I forgive you.” It had taken the last of your strength. Your eyelids shut, relief washing over you as the pain was washed out with adrenaline, pain finally giving out to euphoria.

“No. Stop. No no no. Stay with us. Please, please stay with us. No no no no no No No NO NO NO!” Stu was nearly screaming now. Billy, on the other hand, said nothing as he sobbed openly and loudly. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him cry so freely. You think it might have been when his mom left but you weren’t too sure. Everything was foggy and distant, the boys sounding an eternity away and growing further until… nothing.

You went slack in the boys’ hold, the both of them falling silent. Your body slumped and fell, resting in Billy’s lap. “Baby…?” Stu spoke in barely a whisper, calling out to you. “Love?” His hands were on your throat and on your shoulder, shaking your body slightly. “Wake up baby, please.” Another shake. “Please, please wake up, please, please, please, please, please. When you didn’t respond, Stu through himself forward and held you in a tight hug as he sobbed into your slack shoulder.

Any other time, you’d hold him close. You’d tell him it was alright and that you were always here for him. How could you be so cruel and lie to him? Just come back. He needs you. They need you. Both of them will never be complete again without you.

Billy cried over you, his tears falling on your blood-stained cheeks and mixing to form pink streaks that fell to the floor. At some point they’d both grown silent, retreating into their thoughts as they couldn’t physically cry anymore. They had to leave, they both knew it. They could both hear the sirens growing closer. Stu looked up at Billy, both confirming to the other that they had to go and leave you here. Billy took off the necklace they had given you when they’d first asked you to date them. It was a simple silver chain with a little VHS charm and a Michael Myers mask charm. He moved you off of himself gently, leaning over to give you one last kiss on your lips as he tucked the necklace away. He grabbed the masks as Stu kissed your forehead and then your lips.

They left out the window as the sirens approached the house. You were left to be discovered, another victim of the Woodsboro killer. It was their last kill. Soon after, the boys entered the Woodsboro police station and turned themselves in, finding themselves on the electric chair after a death sentence was handed down by a judge.

Billy kissed the necklace and, with final words, said that he hoped he would see you on the other side, and that he hoped you truly forgave him. Stu kissed your same necklace, using his final words to declare his love for you, in life and in death. Then, a strong shock took each boy out.

#billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #angst #scream franchise #scream #scream 1996 #slasher x reader #slashers imagine #slasher fucker

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the-s1lly-corner · 9 days

Note

Jumping onto the menstruation station, may I request Jason Brahms and Michael x reader on their period? Reader doesn't have to be a woman ^^

May I be 🦊 anon please?

Various slashers x reader on their period

Yes yes you can be fox anon! I'm still new to emoji anons so I dont.. know what all it is.. is it just a means for an anon to ID themselves without giving away their blog, or is there more to it?/genq

First time writing for Michael I think! Woo! Hope it's okay since i dont read much stuff for him and it's been a minute since I've seen the halloween movies <\3

Characters: Jason, Brahms, Michael Myers (OG/2018)

Notes: reader is GN but AFAB

CWs: mentions of canon typical violence

Jason

Oh he definitely does not know what a period is, do you really thing Pam ever told him? If anything he might have heard mentions from campers while he was.. sizing them up before his attack.. but even then that's being generous! Very anxious the first time you have your cycle around him, but he seems to calm down significantly when you explain. It's not so much that its blood, it's the fact that it's coming from you and he doesnt understand why. Very caring, wont let you do anything around the cabin. Takes you out for fresh air, he doesnt mind carrying you! He feels so so helpless if he cant take your cramps away.. generally hes an angel with how he treats you, even with the learning curve!

Michael

Between the three hes the most.. normal about it. Nonchalant, even. Hes not at all phased by blood, that much is obvious thanks to the occasional nights where he comes back home covered in the stuff. Hes a little.. uncaring.. when it comes to helping you. Is that the correct word? He will silently grab you a blanket or some pain killers if you need it- but hes not going to cuddle with you on the floor.. comfort is not Michael's field of expertise, either... though it's not like this behavior is new from him

Brahms

Similar to Jason he probably doesn't know what a period is, or at least not a lot of the details. He's probably heard of it but other than that hes clueless. Pesters you when you start getting down, whether emotionally or physically- it's his own way of seeing if you're sick. Explain to him what's going on because otherwise hes going to bother you about your chores.. oh.. you're hurting and bleeding? You dont.. need to see a doctor, right? No? He does some of the duties around the house- cooking, cleaning, things like that. Hes not totally helpless, though his cooking... could use some work. Tries his hand at making your favorite meals.. fails miserably because hes always had his meals cooked for him.. watching someone cook can only teach you so much, especially when you're watching from the walls

#slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers imagine #jason vorhees x reader #jason vorhees imagine #jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #jason voorhees imagine #michael myers x you #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms imagine #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms x reader #brahms x you

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kaivenom · 25 days

Text

Call again later, please

Summary: you were having the night all alone for yourself, no parents, no neighbors, just you. Until you receive a strange calle, but you are not going to be caught with your guard down.

Pairing: Billy Loomis x reader x Stu Macher, kinda

Warnings: serial killers, attemp to murder, crazyness, stalking.

Masterlist

The tv was playing the second movie you watch this night, your pyjamas keeping you warm and a new round of popcorn heating on the microwave, this is your perfect night. The phone started to ring, thinking they were your parents you picked up.

"Hello Y/N, you know why i call you?"

"No, so call again later, please."

Apparently they weren't your parents so you ended the call, it wasn't a voice that you knew so It was strange. The phone rang again.

"Hello?" this time you talked first.

"What do you think youre doing?"

"Sorry man but i am alone at home and i want to spent it watching movies, not answering the phone to a guy i don't know."

"Ohhhh, but i know you are home alone, and don't worry, we will meet soon... sooner that you think." slowly you start to look around you, trying to see outside the windows something that could report his position. "Tell me Y/N, what it's your favourite horror movie?"

"Texas chainsaw massacre," you couldn't find something outside, maybe It was already inside, you took a butcher's knife from the kitchen, "why does that matter?"

"You will see..."

"Tell me your name," you ventured to say, "i want to identify you."

"Call me ghostface."

"Well ghostface, i am no stupid girl from a horror movie, i don't do precipitate moves."

"I don't think so." the call ended.

You see a shadow behind you and turn around fast, almost being stabbed but you managed to dodge it. It was a person with a Halloween costume and a ghost mask, so you asume it was ghostface. The fight lasted a couple of minutes and throughout the house. At some opina it was even hilorious. The person didn’t say one word but you started to notice he was getting exhausted. That was your opportunity to take the shotgun your father has next to the exit door.

“Check mate buddy.” Ghostface didn’t say a word but you hear the door openning behind you.

“I could say the same to you.”

A knife was around your throat but you didn’t feel the pain of the blade thru your skin.

“We are more on a tie.”

“Not if i cut your throat.”

“Then i will shot your friend.”

His grip loosed up and let you turn around to see him. It was a handsome and pretty sexy guy but you didn’t out the shotgun down yet.

“Fuck, youre incredibly hot, if youre friend right there it’s like you, then maybe i would thought about letting Myself be killed by you.”

His expresion changed, a small smile appeared on his face and made a sign to his friend, who took away his mask. The two men where very handsome, and you started to realize the thought of spending the night with them was more appealing every second.

“We have three options, one is that i kill you two, the second it’s that i let you go but you can come back another day but knocking on the door like normal people, the third one it’s that you can spent the night here but not killing allowed… there are more funny things to do.”

“The third one could work for me,” said one.

“I am not going to let myself be left behind then.”

You started to unbutton your pyjama and went to the living room, they followed you without hesitation. Apparently the night it’s going to be very fun from now on.

#ghostface #ghostface imagine #ghostface x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagine #stu macher #stu matcher x reader #stu matcher imagine #scream #scream imagine #scream x reader #slashers #slashers imagine #slashers x reader

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

You know the “opposites attract” relationships?

How about do one with Brahms?

Brahms - clingy, protective, stiff

Reader - calm, trusting, soft

Brahms X calm! Reader

Thank youuuuu :)

❝clingy❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : brahms is one hell of a touch starved man and when (y/n) came into his life he expected her to be just like all the others, but she isn’t. In fact she embraces him with welcome arms so does that mean all those people who left him are because it’s his fault?

✭ slashers masterlist

The wind whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded Heelshire Manor, casting eerie shadows on its aged façade. (Y/N) had applied for a simple job months ago, never imagining how peculiar her new role would become. The advertisement had called for a caretaker, someone to oversee the estate's unique collection of antiques and curiosities. Little did she know, her main charge would be a doll of all things.

The first time she laid eyes on the doll, she was taken aback. It was an exquisitely crafted replica of a man, dressed in aristocratic attire from a bygone era. The porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to the owner of the manor, Brahms Heelshire, whose family had owned the estate for generations. The locals whispered tales of the Hellshire curse, and their peculiar fascination only fueled the sense of mystery that hung over the manor.

As (Y/N) settled into her role, her days were filled with dusting ancient furniture, polishing silverware, and, most importantly, attending to the doll. The instructions were simple: ensure the doll's clothing remained impeccable, the porcelain visage remained pristine, and its position on the mantel stayed undisturbed. The task was mundane, yet it carried an air of reverence, as if the doll held some deeper significance that transcended its appearance.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) gradually grew accustomed to her routine. The mansion's interior was an amalgamation of faded opulence and eerie silence. The walls seemed to whisper secrets, and the portraits of long-departed Heelshire ancestors stared down with solemn gazes. Every creak and rustle echoed through the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert.

One evening, as she carefully adjusted the doll's coat collar, she felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine. A feeling of being watched settled over her, but she brushed it off as her imagination running wild. That night, though, as she lay in bed, she could have sworn she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze.

The following days brought a series of odd occurrences: a book left open to a specific page she hadn't touched, a teacup shifted slightly on its saucer. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing tricks on her, but each time she looked around, the empty rooms offered no answers.

It was on the night of a thunderstorm that everything changed. Lightning illuminated the mansion's darkened interior, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. (Y/N) found herself drawn to the doll, her fingers tracing its delicate features in the dim light.

And then, as the thunder roared and rain beat against the windows, she heard a whisper so faint it might have been her own imagination. "(Y/N)…" The voice seemed to emanate from within the doll itself.

Startled, she stumbled back, her heart racing. But then, as if responding to an unseen presence, the doll's eyes blinked. A shock of realization coursed through her: the doll was no mere doll; it was a conduit to something more.

"(Y/N)…" The voice was clearer this time, resonating through the room. She watched in awe as the doll's porcelain skin began to soften, its limbs shifting, as if a dormant life was awakening.

And then, from the doll's heart, a figure emerged. A man, dressed in period clothing, stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and caution. It was Brahms Heelshire himself, or a spectral semblance of him.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other in silence. (Y/N) was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, her heart pounding in her chest. But amidst the shock and fear, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The man, or whatever he was, spoke softly, his voice tinged with both melancholy and yearning. "You did not flee, as others before you have. Why?"

With a steady breath, (Y/N) met his gaze. "I believe that even the most peculiar of situations deserve a chance to be understood. And, in all honesty, I've grown fond of the company, even if it's a doll or a spectral form."

A ghostly smile touched his lips, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "You’re courageous , (Y/N)."

And so, an unusual connection was forged within the walls of Heelshire Manor — a connection that transcended the boundaries between the living and the spectral. As (Y/N) continued her role as caretaker, the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire ventured forth from his hidden existence within the doll, revealing himself to her in a way no one else had dared to witness.

Over the course of the next few months and then two years, an unexpected bond blossomed between (Y/N) and Brahms. As the seasons changed, so did their relationship, evolving into something far beyond what (Y/N) could have ever anticipated. She had become accustomed to Brahms' spectral presence, his masked face a constant companion. Despite his initial mysterious aura, she found comfort in his company and the intriguing conversations they shared.

Brahms, for his part, reveled in the connection he had forged with (Y/N). No longer confined to the doll's form, he wandered the mansion's halls and rooms, always keeping a respectful distance from her. Yet, he was undeniably clingy, often hovering nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance. His touch starvation, accumulated over years of isolation, drove him to seek her proximity. Whether it was watching her read in the library or tending to the mansion's gardens, he was there, his masked face silently observing.

Their bond deepened, and with time, their relationship took an unexpected turn. The unspoken attraction that had simmered between them evolved into a romantic connection. Their feelings grew steadily, and one evening, as the sun set over the mansion's sprawling gardens, Brahms removed his mask, revealing his disfigured face to (Y/N). She met his gaze without flinching, accepting him just as he was.

They became a couple, their connection forged in the quiet moments they shared, the lingering glances, and the touch of their hands. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his vulnerability and complexity, and he was captivated by her acceptance and compassion.

However, even as their relationship thrived, an undercurrent of unease began to surface. Brahms, though no longer confined to the doll, remained deeply afraid of losing (Y/N). His history of people fleeing from his presence had left scars that ran deep. His clinginess intensified, a silent plea for her to stay by his side.

As the months turned into years, Brahms' fear only grew. He watched as (Y/N) went about her daily routines, her calm demeanor seemingly unfazed by his constant presence. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that his clinginess might drive her away. The fear of rejection gnawed at him, an invisible specter that haunted his every interaction with her.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows on the walls, Brahms hesitated before speaking. "I fear that my need for your presence might become unbearable," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Brahms, you're not driving me away. I'm here because I choose to be. Your presence doesn't suffocate me; it's become a comfort."

He looked at her with a mix of hope and trepidation, struggling to believe her words. "But I'm constantly clinging to you, fearing that you might vanish like the others."

Gently, she reached out and took his hand. "Brahms, you're not alone anymore. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face your fears together."

A fragile smile graced his lips as he intertwined his fingers with hers, the weight of his vulnerability lessening, if only by a fraction. With her steady presence by his side, he dared to hope that he could overcome his past and embrace the happiness that had entered his life.

Their journey was far from easy, but with time, patience, and unwavering support, (Y/N) and Brahms forged a love that transcended the boundaries of the living and the spectral. And through it all, they learned that sometimes, the most profound connections are born from the places where fear and acceptance collide.

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