slashersidewhore - Tumblr blog

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC how you first meet them pt.2

Slashers x f!reader

Includes Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Stu Macher

Warnings: mentions of murder/violence, some stalking/harassment (not by slashers), ill intentions, pre-relationships, reader is a bit self deprecating, shitty friends

Bubba Sawyer

Of course you’d been dragged on a girls trip, and of course the minute the engine blew in you were shoved from the back seat onto the side of the dusty, gravel road, laughed at and told, “go find a mechanic”

God forbid your so called friends, which now you were rethinking the decision to even be here and with them, chose somewhere to travel where there was actual cell service

So here you now were, standing on an old porch that you weren’t even sure was properly attached to the house barely kept upright and covered in chipped paint

“Hello?”

A few more knocks on the creaky front door echoed out before your patience ran out, turning the handle and finding it to be unlocked

“Uh, hello? If I’m breaking and entering just let me know but this place seems abandoned”

You cupped your mouth and spoke, just to cover all your bases in case you were actually entering someone’s home, although the cobwebbed walls and moth bitten carpet spoke otherwise

“This isn’t creepy at all…”

Wandering aimlessly through the houses threshold, you searched for something that you help back on the road where all your friends were waiting

Or maybe you were just hoping this would buy you time before you had to walk 4 miles back to tell them you came up with nothing, no mechanic, no help

Your eyes glanced across the room, taking in all the items scattered about, some miscellaneous and some meticulously placed

Then your curious gaze landed on an ash tray sitting beside a moldy plate of what looked like some kind of meat

Although the fluffy possibly-poultry wasn’t what alarmed you, the smoke filtering from the end of a half smoked cigarette resting on it did

“Boys, we’ve got a fresh one”

A deep voice hollered, a rough palmed and smelly hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the hale scream that had popped from your lungs due to shock

Before you could even think to fight against the obviously strong body pinned to yours, you were being dragged towards an open basement door and thrown down the narrow, wooden staircase like a rag doll

“Take care of er’ will ya?”

The voice of your captor yelled down from the top step, slamming the door behind himself and surely locking it in the process

Disoriented and nurses a now slight headache, you mustered the energy to prop yourself up, hazy eyes bouncing about the room before they landed on what could only be described as a large, terrifying figure standing a few yards away

He wore a stained and tattered apron, brown stains you were hoping were dirt and not dried old blood

One hand gripped a cleaver, whatever he was chopping up before you entered the basement sat mutilated on a work bench, the stench of iron heavy in the air

Despite all that, the man seemed frozen, staring back at you through the eye holes in a poorly sew together mask

“I didn’t even wanna be here,”

You started before you I could stop yourself

“My so called friends dragged me out of my room a few days ago for a last minute road trip, and of course when one of them decided to bring their fuck ass car without checking it out first, it literally gave up on itself and then I get sent out to look for help but guess what! We’re in the middle of nowhere so I found this house and well it’s your house so that’s just my luck”

The man only blinked, body language clearly taken aback that you weren’t screaming bloody murder

“Just, if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least knock me out first so it doesn’t hurt?”

A loud knock at the door startled the two of you, followed by the man from earlier noisily coming down the stairs

“Why haven’t you taken care of er’ yet bubba?”

The man didn’t yell but he definitely sounded upset by this turn of events

The other man, who you now knew was called Bubba, shuffled awkwardly in his spot, rubbing the back of his head before robotically motioning to you, still sat on the floor

“You like er’ huh?

You watched the exchange quietly, although unable to contain the confusion set on you’d features

“Fine, but she’s yours to deal with, you remember what happened last time we took in a stray”

At that you pointedly turned around, staring up at the man that regarded you in terms like you were a dog

“Well I’m not a stray, technically you kidnapped me-“

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this seemingly abandoned town, one minute you were checking the map for your exit and then you missed it

Now you were here, coming to a stop as you realized you needed gas and weren’t anywhere near the hotel you had booked for the night

You definitely weren’t getting the rooms deposit back

Pulling into an empty parking lot, you pulled your phone from the passenger seat only to come up dry when the cell service was next to nothing

Then, before you could warn your heart not to jump out of your chest, a knock on your side window pulled a startled yelp from your throat

A man, not too old but not young either, stood on the other side of the car door, neutral expression morphing into a cheesy smile when your gaze met his and exchanged a few seconds of awkward, panicked staring

Brows raising in realization that the stranger, while sketchy and probably holstering a gun, could maybe help you figure out where you were and where to go

Opening the creaking door to your vehicle you pocketed your pepper spray just in case before hoping out of your seat and into the chilly night air

“You lost?”

“No, I intentionally ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere”

The man chuckled, albeit seeming taken aback by the brash sarcasm about your current situation

“Well good thing you ran into me, little lady”

The man who still carried about like this predicament was the most normal in the world smiled wider when your face pinched up in confusion, placing an open palm out to you

“I’m Bo, and you are, darlin?”

“Someone who knows not to shake hands with a complete stranger”

“Feisty”

“Oh, I’m getting there”

Despite the night breeze tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but enjoy the slight banter you were getting into

Although probably dangerous and wildly crazy to be out so late just walking around, this Bo character as charming, and something about his stare was growing increasingly comforting

“You know people don’t usually show up here, especially at night, all alone”

“But do they at least have gas in their tank? Because that’s already one up on me”

Bo threw his head back, whipping his hat off to push back the hair that fell towards his forehead in the fit of deep chuckles

“I’m normally not too inclined towards outsiders, but if you’d like a room for the night, I’d be happy to oblige little lady”

Art the clown

You strode through an alleyway, hands in your jacket pockets as you made your way back home

It was just your luck that the last night plans your friends picked for Halloween happened to be a party at the house of a guy you don’t even know

Especially your luck when only 20 minutes in you were all already abandoned, you’d ride gone and with it your phone charger

Thus, you nursed a bruised ego in a pirate costume, clutching your phone with one hand even though the battery was lost past dead

“Hey you!”

A distinctly male baritone called out from behind, you sped up not bothering to turn and face whatever stranger wanted a late night chat in the middle of an empty, dark alley

“Well that’s not very nice!”

The man responded to himself, deep chuckle furrowing worry lines between your brows

Just your luck, just your damn luck

Turning the corner to what could be described as more favorable to due the abundance of street lights and open space, the lack of people still has your nerves on overdrive

That was until you nearly ran smack into a body around the corner

Although expecting a gasp in surprise or shout in anger, all you received was a shocked expression, one such as a mime would use

Whoever this man was, was clearly wearing a very intricate costume, clown makeup done to the 9’s and a fully tailored suit to match, with a hefty, tan bag slung over one shoulder

All of your courage of wanting to leave this awful situation, and fear of what would happen if you didn’t took hold, before you knew it you were panicked and leaning forward, watching with just as much curiosity as the clown eyed you

“Listen you don’t know me, but there’s this guy following me and if you could just pretend to be, I don’t know, a friend, I would appreciate it”

The clown seemed to understand immediately, bright grin tossed on his features as the stranger that had previously had your full attention came to a stuttering halt

“Lady, I was talking to you back there”

“Oh! Sorry I just was meeting with someone and well, here they are!”

You laughed nervously, awkwardly leaning into the clown and patting at his shoulder, gazing at the stranger, you saw a look of terror cross his face right as he stumbled back a bit

“Yeah, got it”

And then he was high tailing it back the way he came

Glancing back at the costumed man you stood alone with, you caught how his face held a look of something utterly terrifying before he caught your eye, cheesy grin returning

“Thanks..”

You questioned for his name, grinning softly at the way realization of your ask spread across his face

Hand motions went left and up, down and right, then he paused, pulling the bag from his shoulder to rummage through it, pulling out what could only be described as junk, metal and rusty and junk none the less

Although the way he motioned to the item, placed it in your open palms and played a scene before you, you took to guessing

“Metal?”

“Sculpture…?”

He moved his fingers like a painter would stroke a canvas

“Art?”

That single word had the clown clapping his hands, tucking his body with a faux bow like you’d discovered something only a genius could

Laughing something genuine for the first time that night, you pondered if you should just take your chances and leave for home, or stick around a bit more with this concerning but most definitely interesting person

“So.. what else do you have in that bag?”

Stu Macher

Being the new student in a town where everyone already had friends, or at least those they only socialized with, was difficult

You’d only been here a week or so and you already wanted to move again, alas, that wasn’t exactly up to you

All you could do was hold your head high, and suck up the annoying situation you’d been tossed into

Now, a new school was bad enough, imagine your surprise would you found out there had recently been a string of grisly murders, unsolved and rampaging

Which is why you’d been an outcast since you’d appeared, like they all assumed it must be you, the murders starting, you arriving, it all was too much of a coincidence, despite the fact that it was

“Look at her, I’m telling you that girl gives off crazy”

Off handed comments like those weren’t unusual, yet today, after switching to a new class because of this exact issue, you’d had enough

“I bet she’s the killer”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your evidence?”

The girl gossiping with her friend abruptly stopped her ‘private’ conversation when she heard your quip

“Excuse me?”

You stood, in fact you stood so fast it made the chair screech across the floor, catching the attention of the rest of class

Luckily the teacher had stepped out and you could finally say what you needed without worry of authority looming over

“You know, if I’m supposedly killing students, like you say I am, why so proudly speak about it around me?”

You strode up to her desk, arms crossed with a look of disdain

She seemed taken aback, lips moving like a fish and head bobbing as she glanced between you and her friend

“Well, I-“

“If you really think I’m doing all this, why would you piss me off?”

The girl was at a loss, face paling as you simply said what you needed, before turning and grabbing your bag right as the bell went off, students funneling out behind you

Opening your locker, you startled when a body came crashing into the locker beside yours, arms crossed and looking at you with squinted eyes yet a wide grin

“So you’re the new girl?”

He wasn’t half bad looking, in fact, you found yourself heating up the longer he gazed down at you

He had this odd air about him, like someone holding too many secrets and hiding them far too out in the open, something that only seemed to allure you further

“And a murderer, haven’t you heard?”

You joked, taking out your next classes books before shutting the locker, the look on this guys face was utter curiosity, something you hadn’t received yet while being here

“Of course, just let me know what days you spree so I can avoid staying in”

Not gonna lie to y’all, I was so focused on getting this posted I haven’t spell checked or done a once over, there will and most likely are errors!

[slashersidewhore]

Stu Macher! Telling his s/o he’s a Ghostface

Stu Macher! x f!reader

Requested? Yes

Warnings: established relationship, minor angst if you squint, Stu being unserious, Stu being kinda scary, silly guy moments, very brief allusions of being horny for ghostface, fluffy shit, reader is a little unhinged! (And that’s okay <3)

“Keeping your window unlocked isn’t safe.” A voice from behind you, a hand lifting the headphone from your right ear before letting it snap back down. Nearly toppling back in your chair, a hearty, familiar chuckle came from the stranger that had seemingly snuck into your room, the same stranger clasping a firm, rough palmed hand over your mouth as you went to let out a surprised yelp.

“I wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear and call the police,” Stu slid into view, that silly smile that was normally plastered on his face making an appearance. Heart calming down from the initial shock, you let your boyfriend swivel your chair towards him, releasing your face to plant himself on each arm rest, leaning into your face, “Your parents car isn’t in the driveway.”

“Jesus Stu, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were one of those killers,” Your boyfriend only giggled like he was a school girl getting scolded, which honestly, it kinda like he was. Goofily slumping his shoulders over, the man grabbed one of your forearms to pull you from your desks chair, heaving you into his firm chest before back stepping with you stumbling between his legs, “I’m serious, you couldn’t knock?”

“Baby, gorgeous, love of my life. I did like 5 times, you didn’t hear it over all the Metallica.” Frown slipping into a silly grin, you mumbled something about, ‘good study music’, before you were being thrust down onto your bed, back hitting your fluffy, white comforter. Stu adjusted you as if he was about to tickle you, before plopping down beside you.

“So your parents aren’t home and you didn’t invite me over, I knew it was too good to be true.” He sighed dramatically, peace long forgotten as he flipped his arms under his head, black hoodie lifting to reveal his slight midriff and boxer line.

“What are you even talking about-,” Before the sentence even finished leaving your lips the lumbering behemoth was tugging at you, pulling the curve of your waist to anchor you into his body and the warmth it emanated.

“Us, baby! I knew we were too perfect for one another and a betrayal was bound to happen.” You could tell by the slight pinch to his tone that he was joking, your eyes rolling so far back you worried it would remain. Playfully shoving his chest, you gathered your weight to the right before tossing one leg over Stu’s clothed waist, smiling as the man below you caught each of your hands in his, fingers intertwining.

“I think you’re full of shit,” You taunt, tongue sticking out as your body shook from the laughter below you, stomach filling with butteries as the sight below you was utterly adorable. Who knew such a man-child with no filter and a bad habit of bullying his friends could be such a cutie? Suddenly you were glad your parents had planned a date night, imagining them walking in to see this wasn’t a pleasant idea, no matter how innocent it was, “If anyone were to be betrayed, it would so be me. Have you met yourself?”

The silence immediately enveloping the room was deafening, in fact it was so abrupt that the smile on your face was wiped clean off. Had you said something wrong? He must’ve known you were just joking, that’s how it always was between the two of you. Teasing retorts and snappy comebacks. Gazing down at your boyfriend, it was almost eerie the way he watched you back, as if he was thinking something he wouldn’t even confess too after being put behind bars. You couldn’t tell if he was even still with you, the glaze in his expression akin to looking into the eyes of a wild animal, carefully coordinating its attack, “I have something to tell you.”

It was your turn to freeze, and although you were quite literally still on top of him, Stu felt miles away with the tone he used. He seemed almost, nervous? It wasn’t like him to be like this, and it made your face heat uncomfortably. What was so awful to tell you that it made him appear as a deer in headlights?

“Okay? So tell me,” You mumbled, and although it was quiet it was loud enough for Stu to perk at your response as his eyes fluttered shut, swallowing what seemed to be a lump in his throat before his eyes once again were on you, hands, while starting to sweat, kept their hold on yours, “Babe, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yeah well, promise you won’t run screaming?” Now that was a line to hear, what could he possibly be talking about? You didn’t even know how to respond to that, only nodding slowly as you tried to steady your breathing, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“You know those murders, the really brutal ones going on around town, getting our classmates?” There was that edge to his tone again, almost like he once before, was holding back a laugh. The thought alone made your pulse race.

“Yeah?” The unease in your voice surprised yourself, wanting to sound sure and in control of the moment. Eyes slipping from your boyfriends, you let out a noise of shock when a knee from below and behind bumped against your ass, jostling you in Stu’s lap and effectively locking your eyes back to his. Where the tension had come from? You didn’t know, although it was thick enough to bite and pull a chunk off, heavy in the air.

“It was me. Well, part of them.” The causal demeanor he held felt like a gut punch, racing your mind clockwise to catch up with what he said as it chased around your thoughts. Breath stolen for a second, your throat tightened as did your thighs, lightly squeezing Stu’s midsection.

“Say something.” You didn’t think words would suffice the way you felt, his small demand unreachable as you gasped for anything to say, willing yourself to at least muster something.

“You’re the killer.” He shrugged like it was Wednesday and he’d just read you the lunches menu, like it was lukewarm spaghetti from a box and not a police file somewhere plastered with photos of dead bodies.

“One of them.” Another pause for breath, agonizing stare from below you didn’t fight or bother to look away from. He’d most likely just force you back. He was reading you, softly scanning your features for any sign of distress, and if that small, subtle gesture didn’t go unnoticed you didn’t know what would. You saw everything in Stu, you could analyze him in seconds and he did same with you. It was scary how well the two of you matched, which is why you were confused as to why you had missed all the clear signs of this. Stu wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t parading around showing off the murders, so why would he tell you? Just to make you another victim? No, the softness, while barely visible, in his features told you otherwise. Maybe that was the same reason you felt the gradual heat from your burning lungs begin seeping downward.

“That’s hot.” Final. Just like the last look on your boyfriends face before he burst into laughter, cheeks fading pink from the exertion and dropping your hands to wipe at his forming tears.

“You’re so fucked up!” He sung, howling as you grew hot, hands finding their way to grab the front of his hoodie. You were practically on a bull ride from how hard this man was giggling beneath you, his vibrations tickling the undersides of your thighs.

“And you’re killing people!” You mocked, biting your lip to hold back your own chuckle when he only doubled down, hands falling to your hips to keep you in place.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing! Touchy touchy,” He grumbled, although it was clearly a facade through the Cheshire grin on his pretty face, sitting up with you in his arms before practically body slamming you to the side, knees between your thighs. You could purr at the way he nuzzled into your neck, humming with satisfaction at all the events that had transpired, “Next time you better lock your window though, I’m serious.”

Lemme know if y’all want a Billy Loomis version, this was fun to write

To OG requester, I hope what I wrote sufficed for what you asked! <3

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim

Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader

Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were

You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home

Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?

“You’re one of them”

The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time

You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation

Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged

“They killed my girlfriend!”

The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack

Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters

The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips

Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets

Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?

“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”

The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”

You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body

His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon

A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder

Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with

Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.

“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”

Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.

“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”

“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”

Vincent Sinclair

You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters

Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it

So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part

Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back

Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did

“Miss? Fuck, help me!”

The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?

“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”

Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face

“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”

“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“

You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face

“Please-“

“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”

The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth

The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out

The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof

Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person

As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second

Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body

Some time later

“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.

“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”

An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.

“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.

Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,

‘You’re safe now.’

Lester Sinclair

Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath

That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company

“Be right back darlin’”

Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder

This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight

“I’ll stay right here!”

You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope

Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes

Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest

“Jonsey?”

You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued

It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action

“There you are girl!”

You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand

“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”

You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl

“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“

Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach

Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again

Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”

“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”

His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees

Then a gunshot rang out

“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.

“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.

“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.

“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.

“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”

If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!

As always requests are always open!

[slashersidewhore]

My genuine reaction when people reblog my work

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[slashersidewhore]

slashersidewhore’s masterlist

General Headcannons

Slashers s/o with a service dog

Seeing the slashers maskless for the first time

Slashers with a s/o with chronic migraines

Slashers s/o hurt by a victim

Slashers s/o hurt by a victim pt.2

Slashers first meeting their s/o

Slashers s/o nearly killed by victim

Single fics

Thomas Hewitt accidentally hurting his s/o

Vincent sinclair comforting his s/o

Stu Macher telling his s/o he’s a ghostface

Rules for requesting

I will write almost anything unless it makes me viscerally uncomfortable and feels like a detriment to the platform.

I write for all smut, fluff and angst, and if you request something I’m not comfortable with I won’t mock or castrate you, I just will delete the request/not write it.

This is a judgement free zone for slasher/monster fuckers

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O hurt by a victim pt.2

Slashers x gn!reader

Includes Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, hurt/comfort, minor angst, injuries, blood, fluffy shit

Billy Loomis

It was partially his fault, he was careful but didn’t always think everything through

That’s why you were currently in the clutches his supposed to be victim, knife held to your neck, you could feel warmth from your blood seep down the blade and beneath the collar of your shirt. Struggling only made the situation worse, although you couldn’t help the small gasp as more pressure was applied to your current wound

Feral. You’d never seen Billy’s eyes filled with such a look of utter insanity. He’d done despicable things, ruined lives, played with people like they were just there for his entertainment, but this, seeing you so close to the edge he sent so many others, was the final straw to snap whatever piece of him was remotely still human

He fingers clasped the knife tighter in his grasp, curling around the hilt and wishing he could drive it into your captors jugular

“They ain’t part of this!”

Brows pushed down, mouth pulled in a snarl, he went to take the risk and lunge before a choking sound cut the tension rising in the kitchen in half, your body stumbling towards Billy by instinct, comforted by the way he dropped the knife with a clatter and wrapped his arms around your body, hurried to get you as close as possible

Stu stood at the other end of the tiled floor, half smile glimmering as he stared down at the man he’d just disposed of from life

You curled further into your boyfriends chest, unable to shake the fear you’d felt moments before, still able to feel the cold metal pressing into your flesh. One of Billy’s hands worked it’s way up your trembling back, cupping your face as to direct your eyes to his. They were warm, vacant, yet warm when they landed on your wide eyed expression

“That’ll never happen again, you hear me? Never.”

Letting you push your face back into his neck, the killer began rubbing soft circles on your spine, cold gaze frozen on the still body mere feet away. If looks could kill, the man would have several more stab wounds, each more painful than the last

Billy’s eyes fell to the blade he’d planned on using, head tilting ever so slightly as he pondered how it wouldn’t be out of his way to inflict a few lacerations across the face that even would dare to breathe beside you

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba didn’t like you being around victims, during times where he was killing he got reckless, so dazed in his mind and it constantly worried him that in such a state he could mistake you for another and cause you harm

That being said, mistakes happen

Bubba was standing in a bloody puddle, leaking from the headless body beside him. Loose, brown curls fell in his face as he shook his head held by his rough palms, almost cradling himself. He’d been fooled by one of his potential victims, ending up with him alone with a dead body, and someone missing who knew too much.

The others were gonna rip him a new one, he didn’t even want to think about the look on your face. You’d look at him with such pity, you had yet too thus far, but he just knew that expression was soon to fall on your face. How couldn’t it?

The negative wave of thoughts dragging Bubba down were sliced through by a piercing scream, a chill running down his spine before he realized who’s voice it was who made such a sound, he’d recognize it anywhere

No amount of debris, rickety stairs, tables or chairs could keep Bubba from getting to you, all knocked from his path as the lumbering, masked man ran the fastest his legs would go, chainsaw alive and buzzing in his ear

Bubba didn’t even take a second to pause as he took in the scene, still running full force like his life depended on it. Anguish filled his veins, the victim was straddling your cowering body, arms raised to protect against their assault of punches, they were screaming something he didn’t care to hone in on, focused on getting the offender off and away from you

All he saw was red, on his arms, the creases of his hands soaking into the soles of his boots, digging past the fabric at the knee of his pants as he knelt down, pushing the limp, torn and mangled body from atop of you. Fingers trembling, Bubba paused as you sat up in shock, clothing and skin flushed with blood. Scooting until your body was closer to the man, you crumpled into his embrace, letting you arms fall limp, nose digging into his shoulder. Calloused hands clutched the shirt on your back, tugging you closer, you could feel his soft, unintelligible mutters and whimpers pliant into your collar bone

The two of you just sat there, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second after such a close call

Bo Sinclair

Unlike Bubba, Bo likes you beside him nearly every minute. Yeah, sometimes he’s an asshole, but that’s just one of the traits you’ve come to accept as part of the man you love

It was between the moments where you weren’t stuck to his side, or sitting off within his view, that you realized you were at your most vulnerable, unfortunately we all have a lesson that teaches us such

“Where the fuck are my friends?”

A rough, gritty voice yelled from behind you, catching your moment of silence off guard, spinning around, your heart dropped to your stomach as your eyes landed on what you recognized as one of Bo’s victims standing with squared shoulders, but what made it worse was the fact they were holding a gun

The stranger only seemed to seethe with further rage at the look of your confused face, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes wide as the gun raised and their finger went to the trigger

Right as the blaring ring of a shot went off, you were thrown to the side by a heavy weight, body landing on the ground with a dull thud and two large hands blocking the bulk of the impact, hands that were gone from your body a second later, dark shadow leaving frame quick as light as loud footsteps echoed after it

“You son of a bitch!”

You knew that voice, rolling over to gaze at the scene right at Bo tackled the victim to the ground, straddling their body and delivering punch after punch, unable to see his face but hearing the loud curses and violent statements he let fly recklessly

Concern, wide eyes found your similarly large ones, knuckles torn and clothes splattered with red. The mechanic practically folded down into you, forehead coming to press against yours, Bo’s thumbs pressed into the skin under each of your ears, tilting your chin up

“Are ya’ alright baby?”

You could only nod, frightened to think you’d nearly been shot, yet comforted by the warm embrace of the killer, his usual stoic gaze softened, searching you over for any scrapes or cuts. Lips press to the crown of your head, you could lightly hear his inhaling your scent, sighing from the exhaustion of the ordeal

“You’re never leaving my sight again”

Lester Sinclair

Lester doesn’t get himself caught up with Bo and Vincent’s business most the time, in fact as much as a talker the man is, he does like to keep to himself

That’s why it’s a surprise when you’re chilling in the passenger seat of the mans car, mindlessly flipping through a magazine, when an unfamiliar voice enters the warm, afternoon air

“Listen buddy, my friends have been gone for hours and you’re the last person they saw, start talking”

You can see out the pickup trucks window the back of someone facing Lester, their fists clenched as he drops the current task at hand. His gaze darts to you, over their shoulder, and it widens when the stranger whips around, hand on the car door handle, throwing it open

“Get out, I’m taking the car”

Your arm is roughly grasped at the bicep, stumbling over your feet when you’re tossed to the leaf covered ground, wincing at your knee slices against a rock. Eyes squeezing shut at the pain, you didn’t even notice the quick steps of Lester behind you, his shadow looming over yours on the ground as a howl of pain became present. In seconds, the once standing stranger slumped to the ground beside you, cold eyes glazed over, a rather vicious yet precise cut to the base of their throat

“Aw darl’, yer knees all cut up”

Lester mumbled, squatting to your height as he looked over the damage, eyes big and clearly worried. Unsettled, that was the best way to describe the look plastered across the mans face, mouth pulled in a deep frown. Still in shock from being so manhandled out of your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Never mind the dirt and sweat that caked his skin, it was comforting at this point

“Never lettin’ someone push ya around like that again, ya hear me?”

His rough palms rubbed the expanse of your back, glancing down at the body still inches away growing colder by the minute

“Let’s take care of that knee”

Requests open!

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O hurt by a victim

Slashers x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: Beefy murder boyfriends, hurt/comfort, minor angst, injuries, blood, fluffy shit

Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t want you involved in his crimes, he’d rather you keep your pretty self out of harms way. Whether that be at home, or somewhere else in general, just anywhere but with him when he’s busy killing. That being said, accidents happen.

You can’t help the curiosity that runs through you when a harsh bang comes from the backyard of the Myers house. It was sudden really, opening the back door when you were knocked backwards, head careening into the wall with a dull thud.

The minute you let out a yelp from the pain and being caught off guard, the shadow of a tall, looming figure isn’t far behind

There was only one word to describe the feeling bubbling in the killers chest and that would be absolute rage

Now, Michael isn’t one to worry himself when someone gets themself hurt, he could care less quite honestly. But seeing you holding the back of your head, blood covering your hands and forehead, eyes squeezed shut with unshed tears, the little bit of sanity left in him just snaps. The horrific screams of the victim who pushed you over are all that fill the house, quieting into watery gurgles and then just silence

Heavy footsteps stop before your slumped over form, rough, unpracticed movements that pull at your body drag a hiss from your lips. Although Michael isn’t one to stop, he’s focused on getting you to open your eyes, see you looking back at him, let him know you’re okay

A calloused palm soothes over the crown of your head, pulling another whine as his fingers hover at the wound. It’s nothing too serious, probably a concussion, some gauze and pain killers will fix you right up. But the usual silence from Michael isn’t comforting, especially considering the way he seems to have doubled in size, shoulders squared, fingers twitching to curl into fists, working eye squinted behind the cut in his mask. The man is clearly agitated, heavy breathing more ragged, rushed

He’s unable to stab his way through this problem, he can’t fix it by spilling more blood. That worries him immensely. He’s not used to taking care of anyone in such a manner, or at all. His body is acting as a shield from the outside world, not holding you close yet not letting you go. To the right, the mangled, haphazardly tossed body of the victim lies, their cruel death far more brutal than you’d even known Michael to be

He won’t say anything, as usual, but the manner in his body language is different, not soft but protective, cautious. He’s not sure what to do with these feelings, not sure how to process the sight of you bleeding, the one person he’d rather never even encounter a simple scrape

He promises himself right then and there nothing of this sort will ever occur again. Not if he can prevent it. He would watch the world burn before you so much as felt an ounce of pain again

Jason Voorhees

Same as Michael in the regards that he doesn’t want you anywhere near any of his potential or current victims. The idea that you could possibly get injured runs through is mind the daily, even without the threat of others. So if he’s dealing with naughty campers, you better be safe in the cabin, doors locked and windows sealed

Although Jason seems to underestimate the lengths some would go to survive, especially the rage that follows when their friends are slaughtered

Imagine his surprise when he’s hunting down one of the people that got away, heart beginning to race as he realizes their tracks lead back to the cabin, the exact cabin you’re supposed to be safe in. “Safe”, is a word that completely leaves his mind upon seeing what he does when he enters the ajar door. Your face is bloodied, bruised and swollen, collar of your shirt clutched by the victim he dared to allow escape. The sight is enough to send the poor man into cardiac arrest, heart beating so fast it feels to him as if his chest will rip open, but that can wait

The way he carves into the unsuspecting back of the offender above you is feral, machete driving down again and again until you’re left with a bloody heap rather than a person, a heap that is quickly tossed carelessly to the side, relieving the pressure from your weakened body

Even through the swell, pain and red, your eyes can see his swimming with extreme pain

He did this, he caused you to be hurt, it was his fault you were ever put in harms way. His racing pulse doesn’t subside even when you attempt a bloody smile, too overtaken with grief to calm his nerves. In Jason’s mind, he doesn’t deserve someone like you, no matter what you’ve done, what you’ve been through, you’re perfection to him. The fact that you’d chose to be by his side astonishes him, so to let you be injured in this way? Beaten and practically frail in his arms? He’s failed you

The anger in his veins disappeared the minute you softly called his name, hand reaching up to caress the side of his mask. There’s evident tears in your eyes, whether from fear or pain both options are the worst case in Jason’s mind. Yet you don’t seem upset with him, which confuses him greatly but ultimately, your anger towards him would only worsen how he felt

In that moment, holding you clutched to his firm, scarred chest, he promises to himself he’d never let another hand cause you such harm

Thomas Hewitt

In Thomas’s eyes, you’re safest as you can be furthest from him, no matter his hearts urge to keep you as close as possible

The image of you crying, bleeding, or simply making a face indicating unease, upsets his stomach, twists and turns his insides unpleasantly

That is until one day, another hot, overbearing Texan day in the heat when one of the trespassers managed to escape the basement, god knows how they did it, but they did. And now Thomas was lost in the sweat of a days work, eyes scanning the grain filled yard, dusty streets and dead land, no one in sight. Until the buzzing in his ears is cut off by the unmistakable, bloodcurdling scream of someone not too close, yet not far either. What makes his blood run cold isn’t the sound itself, but the familiarity of it. Now Thomas has never actually heard you make such a noise, but he’d be a fool to not recognize it, especially when it came from someone who brought him such warmth

Terror, he can also recognize the tone at which you use, the fear in it, he can feel every ounce of dread you do, tenfold at the idea he may be too late, he may not make it in time, if only he was closer

He’s running now, chainsaw alive and screeching, heavy pants beneath the leather on the lower half of his face, eyes wildly searching the open area for a sign of danger, a sign of you

Thats when he spots it in the distance, a figure standing above another, some kind of tool held high, what looks like a kitchen knife in the gleam of sunlight that hits it. His legs feel of jelly, unable to move until another scream fills his ears, this time it’s of his name, most desperate, pained. And if that didn’t get him moving, he didn’t know what would. Chainsaw raised in pure adrenaline, the lumbering man is quick to slice downwards, down and down and down until body parts dismember, organs are strewn, red covers the wheat and grass and dirt

Saw thrown off to the side, Thomas kneels beside your nearly curled up form, hands pressing into the stab wound decorating your side, blood seeping from your hands that clutch to keep it in. He’s gentle, like a butterfly kissing you, years of scars and rough work should make his hands feel like sandpaper, although grasping you like you’d dissolve, his palms are simply silk

Head lulling into his chest, ignoring the blood that’s spewed across it, you nuzzle the underside of his chin, although in grave pain, the wound stinging with each stride Thomas makes, you feel at peace, comforted by the large man holding you like you would a breakable doll

Dark, heavy eyes shift down to gaze upon you, worried brow furrowed deep, clearly in distress upon seeing you so weakened, losing blood. Luda Mae can fix you right up thankfully, he just can’t imagine ever seeing you in such a state again, he never wants too, it would physically kill him

Carrying your tired body, heartbeats one, Thomas enters the Hewitt mansion with one thing on his mind, he’s never to be far from you ever again

Vincent sinclair

You never went in the basement when Vincent was, “working”, you’d learned it best to leave him alone, ignore the screams of pain and smell of hot wax hitting warm skin

The mans activities aren’t a secret from you, although he’d rather you not watch him participate in such acts, he’d rather you keep from seeing such horrors, allow your sleep to be uninterrupted by nightmares unlike his

You were headed to the kitchen when the loud screaming of what sounded like someone in fear and confusion could be heard, the thunderous steps of someone hurling towards the room you were in, the form of a startled victim coming into view

Their eyes changed from fear to rage, seeing you unharmed, at peace in such a place that got their friends killed, mindlessly headed for the fridge. You could already hear the heavy boots of Vincent rushing up the basement steps, and as if he couldn’t move any quicker, your yelp of fear proved otherwise

Your eyes were wide when the masked man finally came into view, hands grasping as the arm around your neck from behind, body pressed against the person that had narrowly escaped, shaking as they held a kitchen knife to your cheek. The look in Vincent’s eye was deadly, in fact you would’ve been trembling in fear from the intensity if not for the fact that you knew the man would do anything to protect you, and vice versa

Garden sheers were clutched tight in one of his rough hands, knuckles caked with wax. The knife against your cheek began to dig slightly into your delicate skin, causing a soft gasp to leave your lips before red filled your vision, sprayed across where the offending weapon once was, arms leaving your body as the body fell limp to the kitchen floor. Turning to look at the damage, your face was softly grasped by two warm palms, eyes still wide from the ordeal, staring into Vincent’s now calm gaze

His thumb swiped at the blood beading on your cheek bone, clearly discontent with even the smallest cut adorning the face he loved the most, a low noise coming from the back of his throat, akin to a wounded animal

Pulling you into his broad chest, dark locks brushed the sides of your face, Vincent stared dead ahead, one hand on the back of your head as he internally cursed himself out, how dare he let someone that close to you, how dare he let them draw your blood

Glancing as the nearly decapitated victims body on the floor, blood pooling, Vincent swore to himself if anyone ever caused you such pain again, they’ve face a cruel, slow death

Hope y’all enjoyed <3

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC S/O with chronic migraines

Slasher x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: chronic pain, beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, smidge of angst if you squint

Michael Myers

Doesn’t really do much about it until later in your relationship

After he’s grown more comfortable around you

He has noticed it though, since the first time it happened

He’s an observant man

The severity of migraines can be different each time, reveal various symptoms and overall be a pain in the ass

Michael doesn’t really care much at first

I mean, so what if your head is bothering you?

He’s been shot multiple times and never complained

Although now that he’s actually grown fond of you, he finds himself uncomfortable with the idea of you being in pain

It’s weird, his chest gets all tight, he palms get clammy, his internal war is silent but most definitely raging

I don’t see him as someone who would run a hot bath, or bring you tea and pain medication

I’m not sure he even knows how to show he wants to help

So he just… watches

You’ll be groaning in the kitchen as you heat up some leftovers, turn the corner and oo! Jumpscare

Laying on the couch with a heating pad on your forehead?

For some reason there’s a shadow looming in the adjacent hall

Taking medication?

…Why can you hear heavy breathing

The kinda guy to plop down beside you, in silence, and just let you sprawl yourself across his lap

Probably won’t pet your hair or even touch you, just stare at your closed eyes

3.6/10 care, could definitely improve his score but probably never will

Most likely wants to stab your migraine

He doesn’t understand how it would work though

Thomas Hewitt

A total sweetheart

Just wants to help even though he’s not sure how

Probably would make the pain worse

Sorry! Someone had to say it

This man is so gentle with you, he can’t stand to see you in any condition other than happy and healthy

The kinda guy to promise quiet so you can rest, and then trips over everything in sight immediately after

He’s bulky, what do you expect

Doesn’t like Hoyt making any comments that would make you feel worse

Like that your pain isn’t real or you’re exaggerating

No worries though

One rev of his chainsaw and his uncles lips are sealed

Stay out of the basement

He knows it smells bad, and when he’s working it’s loud

He just doesn’t want your pain to get worse

Had to ask Luda Mae what a migraine when is, and what he can do to help

Will instruct Hoyt to get medication while he’s out

Would honestly take all your pain for himself if he could, seeing you like this hurts immensely

Not a talker, but the body language is strong

The minute you’re rubbing your temple with a rough hand, his shoulders cave in, eyes wide with furrowed brows

He looks devastated

He’s not trying to guilt you

He just hasn’t had someone like you in his life before, and he only wants the best for you

Need a hot bath? He’ll sacrifice his own warm shower later

Muscles cramped? He’s already massaging away as you’re face first on your shared bed

Hungry?… well Luda Mae can take care of that

Would do anything you asked

Ask him to do anything

Go on

He wants you too

Bo Sinclair

Doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of someone

…I’m sensing a pattern here…

Anyway

Is one of the slashers who actually talks

And while that makes communication easier, sometimes words don’t solve every problem

Can be harsh

Doesn’t mean to be, he was just taught about rage more than happiness from a young age

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

It’s all with good intentions

Oddly enough doesn’t chastise or mock your pain, you’d think he would honestly, but no

He’d never want to make you feel as though he doesn’t believe you

Does he know how to take care of migraines? No of course not, he is one

Does he go into town to get anything you ask? Yes of course

Won’t baby you, or treat you like glass

He’s a tough love kinda guy

The one that thinks he’s patting you on the back but actually is crushing your spine each slap of his hand

You get the jist

Doesn’t really like Vincent or Lester around you when you’re in pain

Not that he distrusts them

I just think he’s the kinda guy who subconsciously is overprotective, yet will never admit or even notice it

Raises his voice a lot

This man talks in all caps

You need to constantly remind him it’s making your head throb even worse

Or when he starts smoking around you

He’s not doing it on purpose, promise

Will get snarky if you start speaking to him with an attitude, again, it’s not intentional he just forgets you’re in pain and those kinda of things make it worse

Remind him you love him, you just need some silence for a bit

Shuts him up real fast

Calls you doll, doesn’t treat you like you’re fragile though

Pretends to not like your jokes about him being your, “little nurse”

The redness of his ears is an indicator though

Vincent Sinclair

The one I would trust most with a s/o with this problem

He’s not a softy

By any means

Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to manage stuff

Especially when it comes to someone he cares about being in pain

Is one of the slashers I see actually putting the effort in to pamper you

Not extremely advertantly though, more subtle

He’s observant, you need to be when you’re as quiet as him

Notices the minute you start feeling a migraine come on

Will leave little drawings where he knows you’ll find them

So you know he’s there in case you need him

If you want to sit in his studio and just be near him, he’ll just continue working

If you want him to pay attention to you, he’ll start sketching a little doodle of your face

You want to go for a walk outside? He’s not doing that, but will insist Lester accompany you for safety

There isn’t much danger in Ambrose, aside from the Sinclairs themselves, but it calms his nerves

If Bo tries to give you a hard time he’s receiving a cold glare

Would kill anyone who bothers you or makes your pain worse, unless it’s his brothers, but strangers are fair game

I feel like Vincent probably suffers from headaches/migraines as well

They probably manifested at a young age due to the loud, stressful childhood he suffered

Overall, knows how to care for you

Is gentle unlike his twin

Would let you rest your head on his lap and nap there

Wouldn’t move even if he needed to pee, he’s just frozen like a literal statue, letting you use him as a pillow

9/10, but if Bo had a migraine he could give less a shit

Only worries about you

Hope this catered as expected!

I don’t suffer from migraines but my sister does, I’m a little in tune to the pain they cause

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open!

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

[slashersidewhore]

I am begging for Vincent Sinclair fluff. I just want to be held by him ahhh

Vincent Sinclair! HC Comforting his S/O

Vincent Sinclair x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort, soft Vincent, no y/n usage

It had been a long day, and quite frankly you were ready to just get into bed and let your mind be at peace. The day had started as it normally did, waking up beside Vincent, his soft snoring filling your ears. He didn’t sleep with his mask on, although he made it a habit of laying on his side so the scarred part of his face was obscured by one of the pillows. You’d softly curled your arms around his torso, pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck, ushering him gently awake.

Vincent normally wasn’t one for breakfast, he normally just went down to the basement after waking and waited until you would bring him lunch later. That’s of course when the first incident of the day happened. You had left the man to work in peace with a kiss on the cheek, allowing his space as you went off to the kitchen. Bo was there, sitting alone nursing a furrowed brow and cup of coffee. The two of you exchanged greetings, as you beelined for the fridge. Reaching for the eggs to start your breakfast off, your grip faltered, jumping back slightly when the whole carton hit the floor. Unfortunately Bo wasn’t exactly in the best mood, although he usually wasn’t. His mug hit the table, head eyes narrowing as you crouched to examine the eggs that in fact, had all been cracked and spilled all over the tile.

“Are you kidding right now? Produce ain’t cheap around these parts, and there you go wasting it.”

Now you and Bo weren’t unfriendly, in fact if it wasn’t for the man you’d never of met Vincent. But he did have a rough side, and a temper to match that often broke when even the slightest didn’t go his way. That was just the beginning of your day of mishaps though, it was as if the universe was against you. You had gone on to step on a rusty nail barefoot, the small, metal object embedded in your skin that was a pain to remove. Deciding to get some fresh air you’d gone to see Lester, who was more than happy to oblige your help with the road kill pit. That was until you’d accidentally fallen into the pile of fetted, rotten bodies of torn, bloated animal parts, your skin and clothing smelling of shit. Maybe you didn’t need any sun today.

After your run in with the pit, you thought a shower could do. Peeling off your dirty clothing, you were met with the unpleasant realization all the hot water had been used, leading you to shower beneath the pelting cold that gave you the chills. Washing up as fast as you could get clean, you went to remove yourself when your foot caught on something, falling back and slapping your nose against the wet, shower wall. The sting was dull, red streaks entering the drain as your face scrunched in pain.

That’s how you ended up here, hands shaking with self disappointment as you stare at the ground. All you’d wanted was to get Vincent, and curl up in bed, relax and get your mind off of the god awful day you had. But now you were forming a cold sweat, legs trembling and your cheeks grew red, eyes filling with unshed tears. The small, wax shards were scattered on the ground before you, the once in perfect little sculpture broken beyond repair. All you wanted to do was go to bed, and now you’d ruined a piece of Vincent’s art. As if anything couldn’t get any worse.

Warm drops met your cheek bones, tears rolling down one after another, constant and quiet against your silent sniffles. A gentle palm planted planted on your shoulder, swiftly turning your body around. Vincent stood before you now, hand still firmly on your shoulder as the one eye he had left was widened behind the hole in his mask. Your bleary gaze left his, ashamed and hating yourself as you looked to his wax covered, heavy black boots.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it, honest.” Your voice was wavering and quiet, trying to contain sobs as you continued to avoid his gaze. You could see from the corner of your eye as he shifted to look over your shoulder, eyeing the sculpture in question you had apparently ruined. Rough in texture yet gentle in nature fingers lifted your chin, angling your face so you could see his sure to be angered reaction. Although he didn’t appear angered, in fact he seemed worried, his own arms trembling as you continued to sob.

Vincent was quick to pull you into his embrace, one hand on the small of your back, while the other cradled your head to his chest. You could feel the cool plate of his mask’s lips pressing into the crown of your head. You were confused as to why he wasn’t upset, although it wasn’t catching you that off guard considering Vincent had never been anything but kind to you. Circling your arms around his middle, you tugged the man as close as possible, ignoring the way your snot was surely getting on his sweater collar.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Vincent could care less about the now shattered art, if it was anyone else he would’ve lost his temper, but it wasn’t just anyone. Your sweet voice filled his ears, the soft sniffles you released every few seconds was slowly breaking his heart, now consumed by the need to make things right. Hell, you could knock over the most precious, time consuming sculpture he’s ever made, and he’d forgive you. At your words, the man shook his head, trying to convey without words how he truly felt.

He was a few inches from your face, eye shining with something as he gazed upon your face. With a free hand, he pointed to himself, then you, and shook his head. Your brows furrowed momentarily, head tilting ever so slightly.

“You and I?” He shook his head a firm no, pointing once again but this time at the shattered object on the floor as well, “You’re not mad at me.” You sighed as he nodded in agreement to what you said. You fell forehead first into his chest, nudging his jaw with the bridge of your nose. The silence was broken by a raspy, unpracticed, southern drawl of a voice, quiet yet at the same time all consuming in a way that tightened your chest.

“Could never be mad at you.”

Hope who requested this liked it!

As always requests are open to smut, angst and fluff

[slashersidewhore]

Thomas Hewitt! Hurting his S/O

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, violence, blood, use of the word “bitch”, hurt/comfort, self loathing, minor angst

Could also be gn!reader, only two gendered terms are bitch and missy

You sat nursing a bloody rag, leaning against the bathroom wall, knees up to your chest as the silence of the house was more suffocating then the usual ruckus. The swell on the back of your head was concerning, although surprisingly it wasn’t the main focus of your thoughts. Hand reaching up to poke the most likely bruising bump, your fingertips grazed along the wound, a small hiss leaving your lips at the contact. You’d probably have to ice it before the pain got worse, maybe you could Luda Mae to assist.

Luda Mae, you’d have had someone else to help you if things didn’t go tits up about 15 minutes ago. It wasn’t unusual for the Hewitt mansion to be lively, especially when Hoyt was around, stirring the pot. Mind whirring at the remembrance, you sunk further into the tiled floor. Nose tucking into the crux of your knees, you sniffle pathetically, rubbing snot on the fabric of your jeans. Everything was going horribly, and it all started with one word.

“Bitch”. The house was silent, everyone pausing their arguments with heavy breathing and strained eyes, faces hot and throats dry. Luda Mae was behind Monty in the corner, hands clasped at the back of his wheelchair the minute the word left Hoyt’s mouth. The sheriff didn’t pay mind to the eyes drilling into the side of his head, far too focused on the woman standing before him.

A victim had nearly escaped, Monty nearly blew his head off with his own shotgun, Luda Mae was pushed by said victim and landed poorly on her ankle, and you just happened to walk down stairs the minute the kettle began to hiss. Hoyt was like a feral animal, snarling at his family members, spitting his words so hard it looked at if the vein in his neck would burst. Then he directed his anger towards Thomas, the sheriffs face bright red with rage as he fired nonstop insults to his nephew. The larger, masked man, although sturdy and much stronger, was very clearly uncomfortable with the situation at hand.

You couldn’t just stand by and let you man you loved take all the heat, he hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, you could blame this entire days incidents on Hoyt himself. Something you were more than willing to do.

“That’s enough, Tommy didn’t do anything wrong. He caught the guy didn’t he?“ It was a simple statement, a rhetorical question and a raised eyebrow, but clearly wrong as the minute Hoyt sucked in a harsh breath, you knew you were next. His wide eyes were quick to snap in your direction, finger raising to point as if you were some kind of cockroach on the wall, spotted and needing to be dealt with. From your peripherals, you could faintly see Thomas tense, shoulders raised, fists clenched at his sides, although he spoke no words, nor moved his body an inch.

“Listen here missy, I don’t need an outsider like yourself running your mouth because,”

“Now stop that!” Luda Mae chastised from the other side of the room. You knew how much she considered you a part of the family, unfortunately right now you felt anything but apart of it. Hoyt didn’t bother turning his her direction, eyes still set like a vulture.

“Shut it!” His words clearly directed towards the older women caused her lips to seal angrily, a hand falling to Monty’s shoulder, “Just because you think you’re one of us, you ain’t, never will be.”

“Just some stuck up tramp who doesn’t wanna be dinner, ain’t that right sweetie?” Although you knew he wouldn’t pull anything physical in front of Thomas, knowing the man’s strength, he underestimated his nephews self control when his came to protecting you. All the masked man could now see was a threat, not his uncle, but some painted red entity getting to close to you for comfort. Fingers twitching for his chainsaw, even though it was perched down in the basement.

“Let’s just drop this.” You weren’t about to back down, but the look in Hoyt eye was anything but pleasing, in fact it made your skin crawl with goosebumps and chills. Thomas’ shoulders relaxed slightly, dark blue eyes trained on your figure. Your answer seemed to allow the atmosphere in the living room to drop considerably, that was until the sheriff decided he could get the last word in.

“That’s what I thought, bitch.” He scoffed, taking a step in your direction close enough it caused you to lean back, face scrunched in disgust. Hoyt went to turn around, most likely to leave the room all together and go do whatever the hell he does in his free time. The man however was stopped by a firm grip on the back of his shirt collar, ripping him across the carpeted floor to the adjacent wall. Air knocking from his lungs as his back slammed in the wallpaper, a hulking shadow loomed over, the hand coming back to plant itself against Hoyts exposed neck. Thomas was nearly new Hoyts out together, that was clear in the was just broad back and shoulders obstructed his uncle, chest heaving this angered breathing that was slightly muffled at the nose of his mask. Frozen in your place, a shrill yelp torn from Luda Mae that broke your trance. If you didn’t stop Thomas, he would kill kill.

Now you didn’t like Hoyt, one bit in fact. You hated the way he treated the people around him, his nephew especially. But knowing Tommy, the guilt may destroy him if he killed his own flesh and blood. Quick steps took you over the the two men, gasping at his blue Hoyts face had become, saliva sliding down his chin, eyes bulging unnaturally. It was horrific, the strength Thomas could produce with just one hand. You had to proceed with caution, Thomas may not be an animal but his emotions acted similar to a frightened caged one. Sudden movements were appreciated, you learned that early into your relationship. You took a gentle approach, placing a soft hand on his shoulder, careful and light so as he could probably feel it. Unfortunately for you he felt it all right, but in his rage filled haze he didn’t register it as a helping hand, rather someone stopping him from protecting you.

It was fast, one minute you were behind your boyfriend and the next you were careening towards the floor. Unluckily for your poor head that landed just at the right angle on the coffee table, the hard wood smacking against your skull with enough force to crack the skin and pool blood. The yelp you released was nothing short of dying as the dizzying pain set in, vision blurring as you slumped slightly towards the floor. Luda Mae was quick to gasp, rushing to your aid as Hoyts loud coughing rang throughout the living room.

Eyes panning up, unfocused but determined, your gaze locked on the lumbering man frozen a few feet away. Squinting, you could somewhat make out the way his blue eyes were as big as saucers, swimming with something you had seen many times before. Luda Mae places a gentle hand on your shoulder, the other going to the back of your head. Thomas shuffled forward an inch, looking like he was about to kneel down and assist. His heavy breathing ongoing, maybe even louder than a few seconds ago having Hoyt pinned to the opposite wall.

“Oh dear.” Luda Mae cooed, hand moving back into your field of vision. Although still struggling to see properly, the red liquid on her fingertips didn’t go unnoticed. Unfortunately, the two of you were the only ones to see it. Thomas halted his movement to help, fingers twitching at his sides began to shake like a leaf, fists clenching and unclenching. Even in this state of mind, you knew when your Tommy wasn’t doing to great, and if you were being honest, you cared more for the man’s health than your own. That’s just what loving someone does.

“Wait Tommy,” You called out, uncharacteristic slur of speech catching you off guard. Before you could even make an effort to reach out to the man, he was storming out of the front door, letting it slam back on the hinges. The noise caused your shoulders to bounce momentarily, feeling a slight burn behind your eyes as your face grew red. Leaning into Luda Mae, you I tried to ignore the throbbing as she applied some pressure, letting a few tears spill over your cheeks.

A soft knocking on the bathroom door caught you off guard, eyes snapping up and mind leaving the sudden influx of thought you’d had. It was silent for a brief minute, not knowing if you should open the door or ask who it is. Another gentle rap of the knuckles hit the wooden door, this time urging you to rise to your feet. Although there was still a slight sway to your step, you could manage walking across the tiled floor.

“I’m fine Luda Mae, just cleaning up some of the blood.” There was silence after your words, pausing wind your palm on the handle door. After the short pause, there was another knock, this time gentler, trying to convey a message through the wood alone. Eyes widening the slightest, you pulled the door inward, ignoring the loud creak from the worn hinges. Your eyes immediately landed on a sturdy chest, covered by a partial dirty apron, the button up below the same if not a murkier color. Head tilting up to meet the dark, leather mask of your favorite hidden face, finally you were looking into the gaze of the man you loved.

His dark blue eyes were clouded, heavy and clearly exhausted from the last few hours, if not also the life he’s lead. Your heart took the lead, arms wrapping around his neck to anchor your body to his much larger one. Face falling to the plush of his firm chest, you allowed yourself to relax. Warmth filled your chest as a large palm planted against the middle of your spine, the other reaching up to gently caress the back of your head.

“You didn’t mean to, ya know? Hoyt was being a real jerk,” You leaned back into his light touch, watching the slight shift in his eyes as they landed on your wound. To be honest, Thomas hasn’t felt this awful in awhile, a long while. He always felt horrible about what he had to do for his family, under Hoyts control and abusive watch. He knew it wasn’t right, against his morals and who he really was. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve lost himself long ago. Although this, hurting you like this, maybe he’d lose you forever, “I love you Tommy.”

He glanced back into your eyes, brows furrowed and mouth in a straight line as you could see through the dark, leather mask. The rough material pressed into your forehead as he leaned forward, still holding you close. The sudo kiss allowed your eyes to comfortably close, smiling lightly as a rough, untrained voice broke the silence of the hallway.

“I love you too.”

Requests are open! Inbox or messages

I write smut, angst, and fluff

Blurbs, HC, and short stories

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! As tumblr quotes

Michael Myers

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Jason Voorhees

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Billy Loomis

Billy Lenz

Pinhead

Patrick Bateman

[slashersidewhore]

How would different slashers react to an s/o who has a service dog? Please include Jason Voorhees thank you!

Slashers! HC S/O with a service dog

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, and Vincent Sinclair

Warnings: Beefy murder boyfriends, Established relationships, talk/mentions of murder, mentioned shitty people, cutesy stuff

Requests are open! Inbox or ask!

Michael Myers

A service dog 👀

…

Michael isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, nor someone who cares at all about those around him

I can see him being cold seemingly distant in a relationship, although deep rooted with insecurity and self doubt

I mean he was locked up for years without proper psychiatric treatment

He knows what it means to be seen differently, not understood and frankly not given a shit about, whatever the reason you have a service dog for, he can relate it to some degree

Stalking. This man is a literal psychopathic murder, he can’t be seen with you out in public, but leaving you unwatched? Unprotected? Not happening.

Most of the time you notice a pair of eyes on you, comforted by the fact the man is somewhere keeping you safe with his presence

Other times, you’re distracted by certain people

You know those people when it comes to service dogs, we all do

The ones that feel inclined to pet it, or insist if you say no, or better yet question why you even need a service dog in the first place

Yeah they aren’t alive for much longer, especially considering the threatening man clenching a knife a few blocks away, heavy breathing under his mask

He doesn’t give a shit about your dog

The one thing keeping him from killing the mutt is you, the fact that whenever he’s not around, he knows that little guy will always be there for you

Definitely doesn’t like the dog

Not one bit

And no, that time you caught him awkwardly patting the dogs head doesn’t mean anything

Jason Voorhees

This man adores animals, and you

So having a s/o with a dog? Best package deal

A tad bit nervous early in the relationship, doesn’t want to make the poor animal hate him and in proxy, lose you

Someone tries to pet it without asking? Yeah no, not on his watch, the dog is for your comfortably and safety, not for senseless teenagers to bother

Whatever the reason you need it for, he’s always there to lend a helping hand

I can imagine he’s a protective lover in general, wants to keep you safe no matter what, especially since you have a service dog

Personally labels the food and water bowl with your dogs name, has created a schedule for feeding and going out

Knowing he keeps various traps around the camp and forest, Jason is normally always at your side if you feel like going out, walking you to the edge of camp or just keeping an eye out

This one time you nearly stepped in a bear trap, before Jason had become more clingy about you out alone

If it wasn’t for your dog, you probably would’ve lost a foot

Imagine this lumbering, beaten down and hardened man nervous about petting it, his large, scarred hand shaking like a leaf as he gently rests his palm against its head, softly repeating the motion

You don’t have to imagine it though, because it’s the same every time he gives the dog any sort of affection

To Jason, the dog that helps you is an extension of his own love for you, if this furry friend is taken care of and kept safe, then so are you

It’s a win win

Thomas Hewitt

You have two service dogs

One is huge, watchful and protective, keeping track of each step you make and when something could go possibly wrong

And the other is an actual dog

Such a softie, feeds it, gives it baths, takes it for walks with you

Even gives the little guy his own nickname, although he would never admit to it

He was a bit awkward at first, wasn’t sure the animal would warm up to him all that much, jokes on him though!

Dogs are great at sniffing out good people, it was definitely a great sign when it was on its hind legs trying to lick Tommy’s face

You have a command where if you need more support, the dog will go track down Thomas to come help you, something he’s glad of considering he unfortunately can’t always be glued to your side

Honestly sometimes forgets dogs can bark for no reason, always gives him a heart attack thinking you’re in need of help or in trouble but it ends up being a squirrel or something

Makes him feel all warm inside when the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms at night, the fur baby at the end of your shared bed, curled in a ball

Hoyt once made a joke about eating it for dinner

He got bitten

You’ve never seen Thomas so confident in his laughter

Vincent Sinclair

It’s a friend for Jonsey!

Honestly I don’t see Vincent as a huge dog lover, he doesn’t hate them, but they can be too rambunctious for his more calm atmosphere

But… it’s for your support, to keep you grounded and safe

So he can make an exception

Doesn’t want the dog in his studio though, the possibly of dog hair getting mixed with his artwork would tickle his brain the wrong way

Don’t worry though, any help you need, he is more than happy to supply

In fact, this man would probably wear a collar if you asked

Kidding

…

Anyways, thinks the two of you are adorable, regardless of the shiver of disgust when he sees it slobber

Maybe he’s just jealous

I mean he can understand why you needed one before him but now? You have Vincent, your Vinny, your honey, why do you need to rely on anyone but him?

Like babe… you never leave the house? How are you supposed to be there every minute

It’s okay, on a serious note he just wants you to be happy and healthy

So if a dog can keep you that way, he’s all in

Just, don’t give the dog in question too many kisses in front of him

He gets pouty, even as a grown man

Requests are open, inbox or ask!

I hope this worked well for anyone who does have a service dog!

Thank you for reading!