#Thomas Hewitt x gender neutral reader

[bella-goths-wife]

Parent slashers with their newborn child?

Parent slashers with newborn child reader

Michael Myers

Michael found you abandoned in an alleyway, and shockingly didn’t kill you

You were crying which he found annoying but when he went to you, you opened your big eyes at him and the monster melted away

He picked up in your baby seat with both hands and had you facing him, completely unaware of how to hold a a baby

He takes you back to the myers residence and you continue to cry which annoys him to the point he has to go out and kill someone to relieve stress

He returned to find you gone and was furious as he search for you

The neighbour lady had found you after she heard crying from the abandoned home, and she took you to her house

Michael stumbles across you when she sees the neighbour lady changing you and feeding you

From watching her he leans how to hold, feed and change you before he kills her and takes you back to his home

He finds his old crib in the basement and pulls it into the bedroom he sleeps in

When he goes out to kill, he leaves you in the crib for long periods of time because as much as we all like to romanticise parent Michael, he would definitely be a neglectful parent

He tried to take you on one killing spree by carrying you in the portable baby carrier but one of his victims distracted him by grabbing you and running

This caused the other victim to get the police involved and Michael gets brought to the asylum

You are taken into social care until Loomis offered to have you in his care, so he could use you to test Michaels morality

Loomis scheduled you to be with Michael for a day once a week and honestly it was the highlight of Michaels week

He’d hold you to his chest and refuse to let you go or to let anyone touch you

When it came time for the session to end, Michael had to be physically subdued so they could get you out the room

Eventually Michael escapes and kidnaps you but he would be captured again a few months afterwards

This cycle would continue until your teens, you even saw Loomis as a secondary parent figure at that point

It was like a lethal custody battle

Bo Sinclair

You were a product of one of Bo’s many one night stands

Your mother was a woman in the village who got pregnant and when she told Bo, he begged for her to get an abortion

She refused and he refused to be in the baby’s life, your mother was exceptionally happy about that

One person who did want to be in your life was lester, so he stayed by your mother until she gave birth so he could know his niece or nephew

Once your mother gave birth, she was ordered to have bed rest so lester offered to babysit you during the day

So lester brought you to all his duties, including taking you to the house

Vincent met you and instantly fell in love with your chubby cheeks and your baby hands

Bo was less ecstatic about having you in the house and would visibly avoid you

That was until lester went for a nap and left you in the portable crib in the living room

Bo walked in and saw you before trying to slowly back away like you were some wild animal, it was too late and you began to cry

Bo called for his brothers to no answer so he picked you up awkwardly and rocked you

You giggled at him and out your hands on his cheeks

Bo didn’t want to admit it, but that warmed his heart slightly

So the next time you came around, he was much more involved

His world shifted and he was no longer the most important person in his life, you were

He begged your mother to let him have custody of you, she refused and said that it was too late for him to step up

He felt jealous of Lester being able to see you every day, and it all got worse when bo stumbled across you calling Lester ‘dada’

That was the last straw, he killed your mother and had her body made into a wax figure

The courts awarded him custody and now he was fully involved with you

He had to have Lester teach him a few things but he took good care of you for the most part

He grew less and less interested in you as time went on

so even though he was now legally your father, you still secretly call Lestor dad every once and a while

Vincent Sinclair

You were one of Bo’s various abandoned children, but unlike the others your mother died in childbirth which left you under the care of Bo

Bo didn’t give a shit about you and would constantly leave you crying on the couch

Your crying would disturb Vincent’s artistic flow so he got angry and stormed up stairs to take care of the problem

He awkwardly rocked you until he realised that Bo hadn’t fed you and that’s why you were so fussy

Vincent gave you some baby formula and watched in awe as you giggled at him and made grabby hands at him

From that moment, vincent decided that he was your father and not bo

He would keep you downstairs with him at all times and even built you a crib but you mostly just co-slept with him

Bo didn’t care that Vincent had taken you, the only time he interacted with you was to yell at you

Vincent quickly shut that down in one of the only times he stood up to Bo

You grew with Vincent keeping you close at every moment, sure it was suffocating sometimes but it was better than the alternative which was Bo

All in all, Vincent was a good father to you

Thomas Hewitt

You were brought into the world when the hewitts kidnapped a young woman who was pregnant and her husband

The hewitts hesitated but thought as long as the baby wasn’t born, it wasn’t killing the baby because the mothers body would do that when she died

But she had to go and give birth while under captivity, the stress triggering labour and eventually ending with a crying baby

Your mother bled to death and the family eventually ate her and your biological father

Luda may refused to kill you, it went against her strict Christ fearing beliefs

So she insisted she would raise you as her own

But Luda may was an old woman, she didn’t have the energy to raise another child

So she passed on the responsibility to thomas who did most of the child care

She taught him how to hold a baby and how to feed them

He eventually found himself enjoying holding you and loving you

He grew into the title of ‘dada’ pretty quickly

The family deluded themselves that god had sent them a new Hewitt to pass on the family traditions

Hoyt tried to get Thomas to use the cry it out method for your crying but Thomas refused

When Hoyt forcefully removed you from your crib that Thomas had in the basement for you to get you to stop crying, thomas snatched you away and used his physical strength to threaten him away

Hoyt left you alone after that

Asa Emory

Asa saw that his cover as the kind, friendly professor wasn’t cutting it anymore

People were getting suspicious, hateful even

So what better way to make yourself look harmless as being a single father

Or even better, an abandoned single father

One of his favourite ’pets’ had been pregnant at the time and had given birth to you

How coincidental, so asa took you in and spun the story that the mother abandoned the two of you

I’m reality your mother was being tortured to death in the abandoned hotel

At first he just wanted to hire a team of nanny’s to deal with your care, but something changed

When he held you after your birth, he saw something

He saw his future, his legacy

He would raise you to be his carbon copy, you would continue his traditions

A part of him loved you, but another just saw your survival as necessary for his

He takes your care into his own hands and takes you everywhere with him

He granted your mother the privilege of holding you before he slit her throat, she would only stunt your progress if she was involved in your life

He was possessive over you, he refused to let anyone touch his legacy

If you were a boy, he would view you as more lovable because you could carry on the family name of Emory

If you were a girl, he would still love you and teach you but he would expect you to carry children in the future and he would try for a boy

If you were a girl he would also view your dating life as his legacy as his grandchildren need to continue his rich blood, he would hand pick you a male spouse no matter your sexual orientation

You would need to continue his line

Tiffany valentine

Tiffany was impregnated by Chucky before he died, and at first she resented the idea of being a single mother

That all changed when she felt you kick in her stomach

Your tiny feet giving her a feeling of butterflies wings as she smiled and held her enlarged stomach

When you were born, she cradled you close to her and laughed as you opened your eyes and she saw that you had your mothers eyes

She moved the two of you into the trailer and decided to go cold turkey on killing, she couldn’t leave her precious miracle alone now could she?

She would co-sleep with you because she couldn’t bare to not have the bonding time with you

She wouldn’t let anyone touch you, you were her miracle and she couldn’t risk you being hurt

She keeps her dating minimal and casual because she doesn’t want to have her time with you as a baby disturbed by outside influences

When Chucky reappeared, she was at first happy that you would have a father figure in your life

But after Chucky laughed in her face and threatened you, she took you and ran away from the doll forever

But Chucky seemed to have a change of heart when he realised that a game of ‘hide the soul’ would be a fun game to play with his dear child

Otis driftwood

Otis became your father through one of his victims

His victim thought it would be a good idea to seduce otis and then escape

It surprising worked well enough for her to fall pregnant

She attempted to run when she found out but she was hunted down by mama firefly and baby

They were elated to be an aunt and grandma

Otis was scared shitless

But family doesn’t abandon family

You were born and your mother was killed and her head was kept as a present for you when you were older

People told Otis that holding his child would make him feel like a changed man, but it didn’t

It just worsened his already terrible habits, but now he excused them as protecting you

He held you, and he fell in love

You were amazing, your big eyes stared at him and he was mesmerised by every movement

He even found himself cooing at you before he stopped

He isn’t massively involved in your care because mama and baby handles it

But he’s a weirdly involved father in other aspects such as education and affection

He’s an affectionate father when your a newborn

Whenever your not crying or being cooed at by other family members, your in his arms

He likes to sleep on the chair in his room while holding you in his arms

He loves when your tiny fists yank at his beard or hair, he finds it adorable

He kisses your forehead a lot and adores your giggles when he does

He truly loves you

When victims come over to the house, he always has an eye on who’s close by

He keeps you close to him and kills anyone who attempts to touch you, even in innocent ways

He vowed that when your older, you would learn the firefly ways

Baby firefly

Baby one day decided she wanted to be a mother

She saw what joy she brought mama firefly, she wanted that for herself

She found a man in a bar and got herself pregnant

Unlike most women, she enjoyed pregnancy

She felt close to you, you were growing inside her

You were a miracle that had taken plant in her womb

She had the support off mama and surprising Otis who offered her the baby daddy’s head and a baby shower present

You were born in the firefly residence as baby screamed and cried her way through labour

18 hours later and she held you in her arms, her bundle of joy

She had a crib made out of previous victims bones, another gift from mama this time

She would sometimes just watch you sleep peacefully, she just thought you were amazing

She would find the crying and the late nights irrationally annoying but she claimed it was worth it to see your chubby face in the morning

She’s pretty neglectful, but she tries her best

She spends most of her time killing people, which leaves mama to take care of you

But she still tries to be involved and plays with you whenever she remembers you exist

She would grow less interested in you as you grow but she would still find you amazing

You were still her baby no matter the age

When she’s caught and taken to prison, she can’t bare the thought of you being in another woman’s arms

When she gets back she kills your foster carer slowly and torturously

She would hold you in her arms while they were still bloody and would revel in your giggles

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed

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

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content, implied smut

♡note; swapped out billy in this one bc i can’t imagine him sharing a bed with someone and not getting literally pornographic

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> Once he decides he wants to share the bed, he finds the biggest guest room bed and brings all of the comfiest pillows and blankets he can to make it perfect

> For you more than him, but he doesn’t feel too hurt when you push half of them to the foot of the bed

> It was a lot even for a king bed

> You’re reluctant at first, not used to sharing a bed

> But you find he’s very hard to say no to once you’re in that deep

> He tries to give you space, but it’s not long before he’s wrapped around you, clinging for dear life

> And he almost immediately falls asleep like that, head tucked into your chest

> You sigh and try and relax, petting his hair

> And you fall asleep with your hand still tangled in his black locks, holding him close to you

> You wake up to him nuzzling your neck and practically whining

> “Baby…wake up…”

> You’d ask him what the problem was…if you couldn’t feel it against your leg

> You spend most of the morning still in bed, lazily fixing his predicament

Micheal Myers

> He doesn’t get why you want him to do this

> You know he doesn’t cuddle

> You know he usually gets restless and wanders at night

> But there’s no reason to say no, and even he can’t stand how sad your pout is

> You hum and stretch, tucking yourself in and look at him expectantly

> He takes off his boots and lays on top of the covers beside you, stiff as a board

> You have to coax him to even take the mask off, but he still won’t relax

> You quickly realize he’s used to high security psych ward bunks, not big comfy queen beds full of stuffed animals

> “…do you…wanna sleep on the floor?”

> He pauses.

> Shakes his head and closes his eyes.

> After you finally fall sleep, he sits up, intending on leaving

> But you look so peaceful…he can’t help to stay and watch you. Just for a little while.

> When he touches your cheek, you press into his hand. Maybe a while longer.

> When you wake up he’s still staring at you, hand long gone from your cheek

> But once you blink awake, it creeps somewhere else..

Thomas Hewitt

> He’s almost nervous of the idea

> Y’all are certainly intimate with each other - just as intimate as you would be if you were married like his mama was planning

> But what if the family noticed you were in there? He’d kill Hoyt for calling you anything nasty-

> When he sees you in skimpy PJs, he immediately forgets his worries

> He has a huge bed because he’s a huge guy, so when you curl up in it alone, it’s almost comical

> He’s staring at you as he climbs in after you, cautiously removing his mask

> His shoulders relax a little when you smile up at him, still so amazed you can stand to look at him

>“Hold me?”

> He grunts and takes no time in pulling you flush, spooning you. He’s more relaxed than he’s been in a while, sure he’ll fall asleep in no time

> Until you give a tiny sigh and shift your hips, innocently adjusting

> It doesn’t take much for you to set him off- he’s touch starved and obsessed with you.

> Along with feeling him against your ass, you can literally hear his breathing change.

> “…Tommy baby? Want me to take care of that?”

> It takes another two hours before you fall asleep, both sticky with sweat and sated, your head laying on his broad chest.

Bubba Sawyer

> He’s so happy to have a sleepover- even if you live right down the hall in the same house (I cannot imagine you dating him and being allowed to leave the farm tbh)

> He gives you an updated tour of his room- he’s very happy to show you the collection of polaroids of you he hung up.

> You were wondering where those went

> Finally he drops you on the bed, giggling quietly

> It’s old but comfy, and he has plenty of stolen pillows and blankets, and even some stuffed bears

> He strips right on down to his heart boxers, leaving his mask on for last

> He takes it off slowly, giving you that shy look he always does

> You grin and open your arms and he’s more than happy to scoop you up with a coo.

> By the time you’re settled, you’re curled around his back

> He loves being the little spoon, even if he’s a big brute

> When you wake up he’s bursting back into the room with some slightly burnt toast for breakfast

> It’s a sudden wake up call, but a welcome one

> And you repay him in tons of kisses, all over

Vincent Sinclair

> Like some of the others he’s hesitant

> But you want him to relax, he’s been working so hard- so you take him away from the studio, and into your room

> You’re not even letting him so much as sketch until he sleeps

> He tilts his head and is almost pouting, trying to guilt you - even more so once you help him remove his wax

> Until you coax him into his stomach so you can massage his back, that is

> You’re clumsy and certainly not a professional, but your hands on him is enough to melt away the stress

> He suddenly rolls over and grabs your hips as he hears you yawn

> It’s your turn to pout down at him

> But eventually you relent and let him cradle you close to his chest as he hums a nonsense lullaby

> You keep him trapped in bed the next morning as revenge, again straddling him before he can get up to leave

> But this time, you’re most certainly not yawning

[agender-wolfie]

I need to be put in a headlock and prone boned until I’m fucked dumb all while being called a “good baby”… pls 🥹

[hyuniemyunie]

Sleeping Together

slashers x gn!reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): established relationship, cuddling, sleeping next to them.

I LOOOOOOVE BRAHMS. BUT I ALSO LOOOOOVE BUBBA. BUT I ALSO LOOOOOOVE STU. should i do aftercare scenarios?🤔 but after they got fucked/pegged😞🙏 so dom/top reader scenario😞😞 nvm im gonna do it

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

ᯓ★ Brahms cannot sleep unless you’re touching him in some way. He’s like an overgrown child in that sense—if you try to roll away, he’ll grab onto you immediately, pulling you back with surprising strength.

ᯓ★ Sometimes he keeps his mask on, sometimes he takes it off in the dark when he knows you won’t see. If you try to touch his face, he’ll freeze up for a moment before leaning into your touch.

ᯓ★ He mumbles in his sleep sometimes, little, breathy "stay with me"s or "don’t leave." If you answer back, even just a quiet "I’m here," he’ll calm down instantly.

ᯓ★ Sometimes, he’ll pretend to be asleep just to see if you try to sneak away. If you do? He’ll wake up immediately, whining. "Bad. You’re being bad.."

ᯓ★ He doesn’t sleep much, so you might wake up to find him just watching you. No noise, no movement—just staring. He thinks it’s comforting. (It’s not.)

Brahms is not a quiet sleeper. He breathes heavily, even behind his mask. You learned this on the first night you stayed in the mansion. He watches. Always. Even in the dead of night, even when his arms are wrapped around you, he does not sleep easily.

Tonight is no different.

You stir in bed, feeling the weight of his body pressed up against yours. Brahms clings to you, desperate for comfort, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. His breath, warm and slow, fans against your neck. It should be unsettling—should send shivers down your spine—but it doesn’t.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into his embrace, despite the feeling of his masked face resting against your shoulder. He lets out a low hum, a noise of contentment, and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

"Don’t move." His voice is thick with drowsiness, but there’s a quiet possessiveness to it.

"I wasn’t planning to," you murmur, shifting just enough to get comfortable.

Brahms lets out a sigh, nuzzling into you like a cat seeking warmth. You wonder if he’s actually asleep or simply pretending, waiting for the moment you slip away. He does that sometimes—tests you.

The old pipes in the house creak, and you feel him tense. His fingers twitch against your side. "Stay," he whispers again, softer this time, like a plea rather than a command.

You reach up, brushing your fingers over his arm. "I’m here," you reassure him.

And with that, Brahms finally drifts off, chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours, his paranoia momentarily eased by your presence.

ᯓ★ Bubba runs hot. Laying next to him is like sleeping beside a furnace, and if it’s summer? You’re gonna suffer. But in the winter? Absolute heaven.

ᯓ★ Once Bubba’s out, he’s out. Thunderstorms, screaming victims, even Drayton yelling? Nothing wakes him up unless you shake him really hard.

ᯓ★ He has nightmares a lot. Some nights, you’ll hear him whimpering, and if you rub his back or whisper his name, he’ll calm down instantly, snuggling closer.

ᯓ★ He doesn’t mean to, but in his sleep, he’ll just… roll on top of you. And given that he’s built like a truck? Yeah. RIP you.

ᯓ★ Bubba holds onto you with pure affection. He’s like a giant, overly attached teddy bear.

Bubba sleeps like a rock. A very warm, very heavy rock.

The moment you settle into bed with him, it’s like being trapped under a weighted blanket made entirely of muscle. Bubba curls himself around you, practically cocooning you with his sheer size. His body radiates warmth like a furnace, and while it’s comforting, it also means you’re at risk of overheating within minutes. ESPECIALLY in a place like texas.

His head rests against your shoulder, the sound of his soft, occasional pig-like snorts filling the room. Every so often, he lets out a little grunt in his sleep, twitching as if chasing something in a dream.

You shift slightly, trying to peel yourself away just a little so you don’t combust. But the moment you move, Bubba lets out a distressed whimper, his thick arms pulling you back in an instant.

"No, no, I’m not leaving," you whisper, gently patting his arm. "Just getting comfy, big guy."

Bubba responds with a content sigh, nuzzling into your hair. His fingers twitch against your side, gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as if afraid you’ll disappear in the night.

And so, you let him hold you, even if it means waking up drenched in sweat.

ᯓ★ Unlike Brahms’ creepy staring or Bubba’s snorting, Thomas is eerily silent when he sleeps. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you’d think he wasn’t breathing.

ᯓ★ The slightest noise will wake him up. He’s used to being on high alert, and if you move too much, he’ll stir immediately.

ᯓ★ He’s not naturally affectionate in his sleep, but if you lean into him? His arm will instinctively come around you, pulling you close.

ᯓ★ Even while unconscious, his body is positioned between you and the door, keeping you safe.

ᯓ★ He may be a massive, intimidating man, but when he’s resting? His grip is surprisingly gentle. His hand will rest on your side or your back, just to make sure you’re there.

Thomas is the definition of a silent sleeper. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you’d worry he wasn’t breathing at all.

Thomas is more… reserved. He doesn’t wrap himself around you completely, but his presence is felt—a heavy, solid weight beside you, protective even in rest.

You shift slightly, rolling onto your side to face him. Even in the darkness, you can see the faint outline of his face—his strong jaw, the scarred skin, the way his lips are slightly parted as he breathes in deep, steady intervals.

Carefully, you reach up, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand.

His reaction is almost immediate. His grip tightens ever so slightly. You whisper his name, just to see if he’s awake. He doesn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his fingers against your side tells you that he hears you.

And with that thought, you close your eyes, resting against him, knowing that no harm will come to you so long as he is by your side.

ᯓ★ His breathing is deep and slow, a steady, soothing rhythm that lulls you to sleep. Sometimes, if you listen closely, you’ll hear him let out soft, almost content sighs.

ᯓ★ Jason doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, it’s light. The smallest noise will have him waking up, ready to defend you from whatever danger he thinks is lurking.

ᯓ★ He sleeps with an arm around you, keeping you close. If you try to move away, even in sleep, his grip will tighten automatically. If you somehow manage to roll out of bed, he will gently pick you up and place you back like it’s nothing.

ᯓ★ If he ever catches you watching him sleep, he’ll get weirdly flustered, shifting slightly like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The camp is silent at night, save for the distant chirp of crickets and the occasional rustling of the trees. You’re nestled against Jason’s broad chest, his warmth keeping the night chill at bay. He doesn’t need sleep the way you do—whatever supernatural force keeps him alive seems to have erased the human need for rest—but he still lays beside you.

Your fingers rest against his chest, tracing slow, absent-minded patterns over the worn fabric of his shirt. His breathing is deep and even, but you can tell he’s still awake.

"You don’t have to stay up, you know," you murmur, shifting slightly to look up at him.

Jason doesn’t respond with words—he never does—but his arm tightens around you, fingers flexing against your back. It’s his silent way of saying, I want to.

You exhale softly, nuzzling against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his mask. He still wears it, even here, even now. Maybe he’s afraid. Afraid you’ll see him—truly see him—and decide you no longer want to be here.

So you do the only thing you can. You press a gentle kiss against the mask, just over where his cheekbone would be.

Jason stiffens, his entire body going still. Then, after a long pause, he exhales a slow, shuddering breath. His fingers twitch against your side before he pulls you even closer, tucking you beneath his chin like something precious.

And in that moment, despite the horrors of the world, you’ve never felt safer.

ᯓ★ Michael is used to watching people sleep, not actually doing it himself. He doesn’t need much rest, but when he does sleep, it’s eerily still—no tossing, no turning, just pure silence.

ᯓ★ If he wakes up before you (which he always does), he just… watches you. If you wake up to find him staring, good luck falling back asleep.

ᯓ★ Michael isn’t really affectionate, but if you lean into him or drape an arm over him, he won’t push you away. Instead, he’ll slowly adjust, letting you stay there.

ᯓ★ Even in deep sleep, if you get up to leave, he’ll wake up instantly. No words, just a heavy hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down.

ᯓ★ No pillows for you. He is your pillow. No exceptions.

Michael doesn’t sleep. Not in the way normal people do. Tonight, like every night, you wake to find him watching you.

His head is tilted slightly, the dim glow of the moonlight casting shadows across his mask. He’s barely inches away, sitting on the edge of the bed, just staring.

You sigh, rubbing at your tired eyes. "Michael, you’re supposed to be resting."

No response. He just keeps watching, the dark voids of his eye holes locked onto you.

You groan, reaching out blindly, fingers curling around his wrist. You expect him to pull away—Michael isn’t exactly fond of touch—but instead, he lets you guide him down. Lets you pull him into the bed beside you.

"Lay down," you tell him softly. "Just for a little while."

He obeys without protest, stretching out beside you. His body is tense, like he’s unsure how to relax. You move closer, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing beneath your fingertips.

After a long, long moment, he finally reacts. His arm moves—not to strangle, not to harm, but to rest against your side, hesitant but firm.

It’s the closest thing to an embrace you’re going to get.

And it’s enough.

ᯓ★ Years of surviving in the mines have left Harry with a deeply ingrained sense of paranoia. Even when he sleeps, his muscles stay coiled, like he’s always expecting an attack.

ᯓ★ Some nights, he’ll suddenly jerk awake, breath ragged and hands clenched. If you soothe him—whisper his name, rub his back—he’ll calm down quickly, grounding himself in your presence.

ᯓ★ Harry will drape his arm over you, and there’s no escaping it. He doesn’t even realize how heavy he is, but at least he’s warm.

ᯓ★ If you can’t sleep and shift restlessly, he’ll reach out—without opening his eyes—and rest a hand on your hip, rubbing slow, absent-minded circles to lull you back to sleep.

The scent of coal and metal clings to him, even in sleep. It’s ingrained into his skin, his clothes, the very air around him. You don’t mind. It’s comforting in its own strange way—earthy, familiar, him.

Harry sleeps still and silent, body coiled with tension even in rest. His arm is thrown over you, holding you close, a subconscious need to keep you safe.

You shift slightly, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Relax, Harry," you whisper against his skin. "You’re not in the mines anymore."

His breathing hitches for just a second before he exhales, body sinking just a little deeper into the mattress. He doesn’t respond—not with words, at least—but his grip on you tightens ever so slightly.

You know what it means.

You’re the only thing in this world that makes him feel human. The only thing that keeps the nightmares of gas leaks and cave-ins at bay.

And as long as you’re here, he’ll never let you go.

ᯓ★ Some nights, he sleeps curled up like a cat. Other nights, he sprawls out like a starfish, trapping you under an arm or a leg.

ᯓ★ His curls are soft but everywhere. If you sleep facing him, expect a mouthful of hair at some point.

ᯓ★ Loves touch but won’t ask for it. Vincent won’t initiate cuddling often, but if you reach for him? He’ll melt into your touch instantly.

ᯓ★ If you’re sleeping back-to-back, he’ll slowly shift closer until you’re touching. If you’re apart, he’ll move a hand toward yours, just close enough that your fingers brush.

ᯓ★ When he thinks you’re asleep, he buries his face against your neck or hair, inhaling deeply like he’s memorizing your presence. It’s both sweet and a little creepy.

ᯓ★ If you ever fall asleep working on something, he’ll carry you to bed and wrap around you like a koala.

He sleeps curled around you, his body fitting against yours like he was meant to be here. His hair is soft against your cheek, his breathing slow and steady.

You run a hand through his curls, untangling them gently with your fingers, making q soft hum rumble in his chest

"You’re warm," you murmur, lips ghosting over the top of his head.

Vincent shifts, burying his face against your neck. His arm tightens around you, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him in return, letting him hold you as tightly as he needs.

In the daylight, Vincent is silent, a ghost among the living, hands stained with wax and sin.

But here, in the quiet of the night, he is yours.

ᯓ★ Billy? Light sleeper. The smallest noise wakes him up, especially if it sounds off. If you roll away from him, expect to be yanked back within seconds.

ᯓ★ Stu? Sleeps like a damn rock. He can snore through a chainsaw massacre and not flinch. You could literally sit on him, and he’d just groan and roll over.

ᯓ★ Billy does not like admitting he’s a cuddler, but he is. He needs to have a hand on you—hip, stomach, thigh, doesn’t matter—just to know you’re there.

ᯓ★ Stu, on the other hand, is needy and will completely engulf you. He sleeps like an octopus, limbs everywhere, sometimes even throwing a leg over you so you physically can’t escape.

ᯓ★ Billy runs hot—he’s like a damn heater, which is great in the winter but suffocating in the summer.

ᯓ★ Stu runs cold and will shove his freezing hands under your shirt just to hear you scream.

ᯓ★ Billy sometimes keeps his mask nearby, almost like a security blanket. If he falls asleep before taking it off, you might wake up to him still wearing it.

ᯓ★ Stu? Nah, he flings that thing across the room and immediately collapses on top of you.

ᯓ★ Stu mumbles the weirdest shit in his sleep. Sometimes it’s a movie quote, sometimes it’s nonsense like "Dude… cows are just meat puppies…"

ᯓ★ Billy rarely talks in his sleep, but when he does, it’s always your name. Always.

The room is dim, the flickering neon light from the parking lot outside casting shadows across the ceiling. The bed is too small—way too small for three people—but that hasn’t stopped Stu from sprawling across it like a damn starfish, his arm thrown haphazardly over your waist.

On your other side, Billy is awake. You know he is. He’s too still, too aware. His arm is draped possessively over your stomach, fingers idly tracing circles against the fabric of your shirt.

"You’re awake," you murmur sleepily, tilting your head just slightly toward him.

Billy doesn’t respond—not with words. Instead, his fingers tighten against your side, pulling you just a little closer.

"You guys are so clingy," you tease, voice drowsy.

"Pfft—says you," Stu mumbles against the pillow, his breath warm against your shoulder. His voice is thick with sleep, but that doesn’t stop him from blindly groping around until he finds your arm, flopping his own over it in an attempt to keep you pinned. "Ain’t going anywhere, babe. You’re trapped."

Billy huffs, a soft almost-laugh, but you can feel the tension lingering in his shoulders. He still hasn’t let go.

You reach up, brushing your fingers against his wrist, grounding him. "I’m right here, Billy."

His breath stutters just for a second. Then, slowly, finally, he exhales. His grip on you doesn’t loosen, but his body relaxes just a fraction.

Stu, half-asleep, suddenly nuzzles against the crook of your neck. "We make the best blanket, huh? Two-for-one deal."

"More like a human straitjacket," you mumble, trapped between Billy’s intense grip and Stu’s dead weight.

Neither of them responds. Stu has already drifted back into sleep, and Billy, still silent, just pulls you even closer.

You sigh, but there’s a warmth in your chest—something safe, something real.

And in this moment, with two killers wrapped around you like you’re the most important thing in the world, you know you’re never getting a peaceful night’s sleep again.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[i-heart-slashers]

[slasher-kashing]

Hiii!

I'd like to request how Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer and Brahms Heelshire would react to have a female s/o who's hairy but don't like shaving (only cuts short when they're too long), if you're comfortable with that.

I don't know if you write for more slashers in one post, so in case you don't just do Thomas please <3

Or in case you want to add slashers feel free to do so!

Thanks you :3

Should’ve prefaced this in my rules, but I’m not comfortable writing for fem readers, I apologize. However, I can do a gender neutral one for you!

Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, and Brahms Heelshire with a s/o who doesn’t like to shave

Warnings: none really <3

Thomas Hewitt

I feel like big guy wouldn’t have no ill reactions to you not shaving, I mean, look at him. He’ll definitely swat at anyone who makes a comment on it, especially Hoyt. (Who seems to like to torment you for little to no reason.)

Thomas is the type to be happy with you being fully comfortable in your skin, no matter what— and long as it’s healthy.

I could see him running his hands down your arms/legs if those remain hairy, just a nice sensory thing for him. He loves caressing you, no matter.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba does not CARE, whatever makes his pumpkin happy. In fact, he probably wouldn’t really know the difference between shaven and unshaven. It’s just you he’s concerned about.

He may even feel connected in a way, Bubba is a hairy man, he’d feel more in place with you— even if it’s something like this… (he likes the little things.)

Like Tommy, he would swat away anyone (Drayton.) who’d make a gross comment, making distasteful grunts at them and taking you away— no one can look at you with meanness in their eyes. Not happening.

Brahms Heelshire

He is the one I’d feel may be a little odd about it, mainly because he has to have everything a very specific way (and his parents probably taught him some… not too modern things.) or he’ll flip. However, after he realizes it’s just a part of who you are? He loves you, he’ll come into the idea— and now he just likes caressing you like Thomas.

Brahms is the type to actually just like playing with the hair on your head, trying to braid it, or just brushing it because he can. He’s taking care of you like you do him! (Even if he literally has no idea what he’s doing and ends up yanking your hair and mumbling an apology.)

He doesn’t mind it, then again, he doesn’t shave, never has… you may have to teach him how to trim himself!

[koodiie]

Hello! I really adore this one song, and it always brings to mind Thomas Hewitt and myself. Would you mind writing something inspired by "You Came, You Saw, You Conquered" by the Ronnettes, please? I'd like it to be fluff!

: ̗̀➛ You came, You saw, You conquered

Thomas Hewitt x gn reader

CW : Fluff

Words : 264

Author's note : Thank you for being my first request! I tried my best as it's the first time I write about Thomas Hewitt so I'm sorry if it's bad and short but I was having a hard time writing!!

You loved having the radio on when you were alone with Thomas, it was nice. Something you liked to do while listening to the radio was taking care of his hands, cleaning the small cuts that sometimes appears out of nowhere.

It was a habit that you both like, you two could spend some times together with something to do. There were no hurry and no worries when you were together, you two could ignore the other people in the house more easily when being together.

You were humming the lyrics of the songs currently playing to yourself, Thomas looking at you from where he was seated at the nearby table. He likes holding you by your hips when you were standing in front of him, having you close made him more calm.

You remembered, months ago when you first walk into the slaughterhouse, that was the first time you saw him and even since then, you never looked back to you old life, enjoying this one better. He conquered your heart like none other could have done and that's why you felt in love with him.

Having Thomas close like this always warmed your heart, his hand and calloused fingers always brought you comfort when needed as he seems to always know when you needed him for the most part of your relationship. He always enjoyed kissing you tenderly like both of your lips weren't feeling like fire wrapping around each other, running straight into his arms for cover when you felt overwhelm with anything.

After all, he really did conquer all the love in you.

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Can I pretty please request a soulmate AU for this prompt: you have a meter/rating on your body that tells you how dangerous your soulmate is

With the character being Thomas Hewitt??

🥺🙏🏻

Tommy's got his soulmate

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of reader being an outcast, slight angst with a fluffy ending, mentions of the smell of cigarette/ weed smoke.

The faint smell of smoke and cheap incense lingered inside the rather dated van as you sat in the back. Soft chattering over the humming of a local radio station made the ride through the desolate Texas road rather calming.

You and your friends were doing a cross country road trip for your final summer vacation for your university years. Friends was a rather long stretch for your relationship with them, yet it could be worse.

On everyone's right wrist was a 1 to 10 meter that showed how dangerous your soulmate was, beeping when you get close to your soulmate. While everyone you know had ones and twos with the occasional three rating, you've always had the rating of ten.

Your soulmate was simply dangerous. The only saving grace was the fact that it never beeped- never actually meeting them before. There were times when you wondered if your soulmate was in prison or in some rather seedy situations, making you more reluctant on meeting them.

Although your parents tried to soothe your worries by saying that you will be safe with your soulmate even though whomever they are is obviously an dangerous person, you can still tell that they were scared for your future.

You tried hiding your meter from your peers but they all end up finding out the truth. If it wasn't the looks of pity, it was the quiet whispers everywhere you walked. It was a sad reality for you to be shunned for what fate or whatever Deity that chose this for you.

"Damnit Henry, you didn't fill the tank up!?"

Mark yelled at his friend as the empty gas light comes on. Amy and Maxine groaned with irritations as you looked up, seeing a sign for a service station a mile away. You spoke up over the arguing young men.

"Guys, there's a service station a mile away if we take this turn. If you two stop arguing like an old married couple, we might be able to make it before we're all fucked."

The men quickly shut up, somewhat intimidated by the simple fact that you were fated to be with a highly dangerous person. The women giggled at the last part, looking away from their magazines.

"How are you able to intimate those two so easily? They stopped fighting right when you spoke."

Maxine asked, looking at you with her doe like soft eyes. You gave an anxious smile as you hear Amy laughed at the other woman's innocence to your situation.

"Well Maxine, there's a reason why you've never seen my meter... I don't like showing it...."

You started to speak, your left hand moving over to rub the covered meter on your right hand. Amy interrupted you.

"Their soulmate rating is a ten, worst anyone could get. Their soulmate is is a fucking monster, Maxine. The boys are scared of how potentially dangerous they will be given their soulmate."

Before there was a chance for you or Maxine to speak, the van was parked next to a gas pump in front of the rather old service station. You opted to get out of the van and get some coffee from the station while Mark gets out to fill the van. Henry, Amy, and Maxine decided to follow you inside for a snack run.

You walked towards the coffee pots, filling a cup with the hot liquid. A quiet beep came from your meter as you heard a softer beep from a short distance. The gas station owner, an older woman stared at you with interest as the beeping becomes faster and louder.

Anxiety flows through your veins as you stood still- as if you were a deer in headlights. Heavy footsteps grew closer to you as the beeping for both yours and your soulmstes meters became apparent to your friend group and the the older lady as the door from the back exit of the building open.

Actually meeting your soulmate wasn't a thing that you've ever thought would happen within your life. The hurricane of thoughts made you not notice the audible gasp come from the older lady's lips.

The first thing you noticed was how much larger the man was. Your wide eyes looked up at him as he stared at you. Time froze as you took in every detail of your soulmate; from the way his curly brown hair clings to his large neck, the leather mouth piece that covers his mouth, all the way to how he has a farmers tan on his face and arms.

The logical side of you was screaming to run away as fast as you could because of how dangerous your meter says he is. Yet, you felt a sense of safety and acceptance coming from the much larger man. A older feminine voice brought the both of you back to reality.

"It appears that you're my son, Tommy's soulmate.."

A look of approval was shown on her face as she gave you a motherly hug. You accepted the hug from her as Tommy watches you.

"I'm Luda Mae, but please call me mama."

She continued as you heard tires screeched outside. Looking towards the windows, you saw your friend's van speed away from the gas station. Your eyes widened in shock as they left you alone with only your wallet. Luda quickly goes to the wall phone, calling what seemed to be the sheriff. You didn't pay attention to what was said as the two of you embraced each other, knowing that you have each other now.

[salem-the-puppet]

Kisses

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Summary: Thomas finds you asleep and kiss you awake like sleeping beauty

Story:

Thomas walks upstair to you and his share bedroom wanting to see you and have you for the first time this week. He open the door to find you asleep in one of his work shirts and if he knew he could fall again he would have been prepared.

He walk as calmly as he could so not to wake you. He lean down and put a gentle kiss on your lips and left the room to take a shower.

[itzdollysworld]

Like Sapphires Woven

into the Night Sky

(Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

There’s an old saying that before the invention of telescopes and before the pursuit of science, the stars that litter the night sky were thought to be gems, woven in by the gods themselves. It’s this fabric of serenity that has been painted and observed by so many, all which stand in awe as those gem twinkle and sparkle, reflecting to the world the beauty that exists underneath the moon’s passion.

The quiet chirp of lightening beetles filled the night, their soft hum a pleasant white noise that filled your ears, creating an atmosphere of tranquility, one that could not be broken. Not now, at least, because right now, you were peaceful. In every sense of the word, you were peaceful, content, and happy. Your heart longed for nothing but to never leave this moment, to never be taken away from this embrace of bliss.

His arms held you securely, wrapped around your waist as you sat on his lap, your back pressed against his chest. Your eyes glance out at the surrounding scenery, taking in the long weeds and the occasional flicker of green light as another lightening beetle fluttered past in a tender expression. You knew, more than anything you knew, you couldn’t get enough of this.

You’re sat outside in the lap of the man you love, whose arms are wrapped around you so dearly, whose head is rested upon your shoulder so lovingly. Every breath you took in, he breathed out. Every sound you recognized, he understood. Every touch you felt, he sparked. He was present, more than ever before! His warmth, his breath, his heart, his small grunts, his subtle movements, everything! It was all present, it was all real and begging for your attention.

You never really knew how you were lucky enough to have met him, yet you sit here now, leaned back in his embrace, basking in the man you get to call yours. Nothing can tear you away from this moment, from this safety that clings to you and hugs your skin, wrapping around you like a weighted blanket, securely holding your skin in its warm, tender embrace.

He could do that. He did that. He does that.

Every second you’ve spent with this man has been better than the last. Even when there’s a disagreement, you’ve always been happy to just hear him, stand by him, and breathe in the same air he takes in himself.

Deep down, on some level, you’ll never be able to get rid of him, even if you wanted to, you won’t be able to. He has planted himself in you like a parasite, successfully injected his toxins into you that have permanently and irreversibly rewrote your cell structure. Your body, on a microscopic level, has been built into an image perfect for him, an image you never wish to change because he is yours, but in the same sense, you are completely and utterly his.

No amount of time can change that, no amount of grief or strife can affect the relationship you hold with this man now. Obsession some might call it, dependency to others, but to you, it’s love. It’s pure, untainted, unconditional love. It’s love that never bends, it never breaks, it never ceases to exist, it just exists! It just breathes with each breath you take, it just lives and grows and expands, taking up the world around you until it has no where else to grow. And when it stops growing, it stays, never reversing back to its original size because in this world of your love is an endless universe created just for him.

It’s this universe you’ve crafted that cherishes him, holds him, protects him, and adores him. It’s this universe that brings forth the very idea of a god, a god that you can and only will be able to love, a god you’ve entitled and throned. This god is him, a being above all else, even yourself. A being so perfect, so innocent yet knowledgeable, so beautiful yet scarred, so merciful yet firm, so….so precious to you. In this universe you’ve created from the cruelty that reigns outside of it, you’ve crowned Thomas god, you’ve given him the title that fits him more than any title will.

In this universe, you sit in his lap, peacefully watching as he sews in the gems that map out the constellations of your adventures together. Those sapphires, true and glorious, shine in that night sky, a reflection of his love for you, a glimpse into his own eyes, the eyes of your own universal god.

You smile, take a deep breath and close your eyes. When you open them, you’re met with those lightening beetle once more. Your eyes flicker up to the sapphires, now rearranged to reflect his desires.

With a warmed heart, you whisper softly, kindly, “Till my last breath, and even beyond that, I will be by your side, Tommy.”

You turn in his lap, looking up at him with a sweet smile. He looks down at you, his eyes glossy and always grateful. You lift a hand, placing it on his scarred cheek, his mask having long since been discarded prior to your encounter. Gently, you caress his skin and lean forward, tenderly kissing the side of his mouth, a spot that always made his eyes flutter.

You pull away slightly, looking back up him. Your eyes connect and your heart swells. He’s always been quite the charmer, and now, as you gaze into those lovely blue eyes, you’re met with his heart, which beats for you.

You lean back closer and press your lips against his this time. A melody of love spills from your heart, dancing and twirling about him in a golden haze, encircling him in a devoted prayer. The stars shimmer in the sky, shifting here in there as Thomas captures this memory on that twinkling canvas.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to his passion, to his love which cradles you so tenderly. Your heart lays in his weathered hands, forever enraptured and infatuated with this immortal beauty, beating a prayer for your combined lips to sing as the night sky grows fonder yet.

Thank you for reading. Bye bye!!!

[thewolffairytaler]

Guardian spirit - oneshot | Thomas Hewitt x Gender neutral reader

_____________________________

Summary: You have been watching him ever since you were children, studied his behaviour, and likings as you both grew older over the years. Your fascination with him didn't end by maturity, nor a sense of awareness, but because life decided to guide you to a different path in your short existence. One where Thomas Hewitt wasn't in it.

In the small shadows cast by the flickering streetlamps of rural Texas, a young individual named (Y/n) navigated the tightrope of adolescence alone. Introverted and often lost within the prison of their thoughts, they had grown up in a home that was less a sanctuary and more a battleground. Parents’ voices ravaged the air with their sharp edges, often piercing through the walls of (Y/n)'s room. They dreamt of connection and understanding, yet found only isolation within a toxic environment that choked their sense of identity. Yet amidst the loneliness, a spark ignited: a fascination with someone who, in many ways, was just as lost—a young boy named Thomas Hewitt.

From the moment (Y/n) first laid eyes on Thomas, they felt an undeniable connection, a magnetic pull that drew them toward him. It was on a day that happened to be drenched in the golden hues of a fading summer when they watched through a cracked window as the Hewitt family noise tumbled and echoed throughout the house. He was just a child then, a boy who somehow caught the attention of a faceless ghost in the night—a spectre who watched in silence as life unfolded.

Years went by, and as the seasons shifted into the creep of autumn, (Y/n)’s admiration morphed into a more profound kind of dependence. They studied Thomas from a distance, memorising every quirk and nuance of his behaviour. They watched as he played with reckless abandon, his sounds ringing out like haunting music that both soothed and tormented them. Yet (Y/n) remained paralysed by their own anxiety, weighed down by the endless parade of "what ifs" that plagued their mind. If only they were brave enough, they could step forth into his world.

(Y/n) lived in a constant state of shadow, finding solace in the art of observation rather than interaction. Nights were spent perched atop the old oak tree that overlooked the Hewitt property, hidden beneath the thick leaves that served as a veil between them. This position allowed them to exist in the periphery of Thomas’s life, a guardian spirit ensuring his safety, albeit unseen. (Y/n) sometimes envisioned themselves leaping from the branches, landing by Thomas’s side, and simply saying, “I’m here.” A comforting thought, but the weight of dread held them back.

In the corridors of their mind, (Y/n) spun tales of how their friendship might blossom if they were to reveal themselves. Yet, each time those ideas flourished, they wilted beneath the crushing force of their anxieties. “What if he doesn’t want me around?” “What if he thinks I’m strange?” “What if I somehow ruin everything?”

Rather than risk rejection, (Y/n) stayed a phantom, consumed by their own fears but compelled to help Thomas in inconspicuous ways. Furtive acts of kindness slipped into the tapestry of their one-sided bond—a gift of fresh flowers left on his porch, anonymous notes of encouragement slipped into the pages of his schoolbooks, or the occasional distraction thrown to his bullies from the shadows.

But as the years turned into days, that feeling of being observed gradually lifted. Unbeknownst to Thomas, the stalker—whose gender remained a mystery—had stepped out of the shadows, absorbed by the demands of a new life.

(Y/n)'s day-to-day existence had morphed significantly, shifting focus away from the obsessive fascination with Thomas. The quaint tea shop where they worked became an unexpected sanctuary; every perfectly brewed cup of Earl Grey, every delicate pastry prepared, drew their attention away from the dark fixation they once held. The rhythm of their new responsibilities offered a bustling distraction, leaving little room for the relentless thoughts that had once consumed them. Yet, as much as the job provided a reprieve, it wasn’t the only change altering the stalker's trajectory. Their parents had made plans to marry them off, setting in motion a whirlwind of social expectations and familial duties that demanded their attention and energy.

Caught between the desire for independence and the persistent yearning for parental approval, A drifted in a liminal space of self-doubt and unfulfilled dreams. They had often envisioned reclaiming control over their life, severing the threads of obsession, but each time they felt a spark of resolve, the shadows of worthlessness would close in tighter The gnawing feeling of inadequacy held them captive, and rather than breaking away from their parents’ shadow, A found themselves unwittingly trying to mould into the puzzle piece they thought would finally earn their affect It was a spiralling contradiction—an unrelenting desire to please those who had given them nothing in return while burying the remnants of their own identity in the process. In this tortured existence, A drifted, a spectator to their own life, haunted by what was lost and the fading light of a once-hopeful future.

With each passing day, the stalker's preoccupation with Thomas faded like the steam rising from a freshly poured cup of tea. They found solace in the chatter of customers and the delicate clinking of teacups, gradually learning to channel their intense feelings into cultivating a life of their own. As a result, the once palpable tension in Thomas's life dissipated, replaced by a serene sense of normalcy that had eluded him for far too long. There was a subtle yet significant difference in the air; the weight of the unrelenting gaze was no longer felt, leading Thomas to feel relieved in his solitude without the nagging feeling of being watched. Yet the more he thought about it, and experienced it. A part of him realised he never did want it to end, don't get him wrong, nobody likes the idea of a dangerous creep following one's every trail, but he had grown so used to it that it felt familiar and comforting.

From the innocence of childhood, when shadows crept in corners and whispers chirped like birds sung, he felt a strange sense of comfort in knowing that someone was watching over him. Their presence was a strange mix of solace and bewilderment. As he tried to figure out the complexities of growing up—marked by his challenges and the unwanted attention from those who misunderstood him—this enigmatic being brought an unspoken assurance, a silent promise that he was never entirely alone. Like he had a guardian angel by his side, no matter how tough his life had gotten. But now... it feels like that angel didn't want him either anymore.

Questions flooded his mind as he pondered the reasons behind their sudden departure. Was it an act of abandonment, or had something transpired that thrust them away from him? For Thomas, the absence felt like a betrayal, a confusing intersection of fear and grief. Despite feeling abandoned, he also recognised a lingering hope that somewhere, somehow, his silent guardian was still watching over him, even from a distance. This blend of emotions painted the landscape of his thoughts—a unique tapestry woven with threads of love, loss, and an enduring connection that transcended gender and form. As he tried to make sense of it all, Thomas found himself wandering the fine line between longing for the past and embracing the unknown path ahead, carrying the weight of that ghostly presence with him, even as he learned to navigate life without it.

Author's note: I got inspired by reading a very short oneshot by Anghellus on Ao3 called Parasite, which is a Thomas Hewitt fanfic as well, and it made me want to make my own take on having the reader as Thomas's stalker. So I hope you guys enjoyed it, because I wasted a lot of time making it. I also wanted to mention that this is my first time ever writing a gender natural reader, so if it isn’t perfect, I apoligise for that. And I'll try better next time.

[sourlemonbabes]

Thomas Hewitt x Vampire Reader

CW: Blood, violence It was a record high for this summer. The scorching heat was unbearable even to locals. That's why Thomas was grateful he mostly worked in the basemen. He only came up to eat, sleep, and capture victims. He learned a bit about this latest batch. He learned that they were from Pennsylvania and were traveling to Arizona for their second year at college. Unfortunately, they won't be making it this year, or any other year. Thomas wiped the sweat from his forehead as he placed the cleaver down on his workbench. He had just finished up with the last body, it's all been wrapped up and put in the cellar freezer to be saved for another day’s meal. He hears the metal door scrape against the hardwood floor as it’s slid open. “Tommy dinner’s ready, come up when you are!” The sweet voice of his mother calls to him. Thomas decided to clean himself and his workstation up before eating.

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ leather and lace | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; second person pov + gender neutral language- you wear a dress but this is absolutely still for my masc and fellow nb slasher fans too

♡cw; stockholm syndrome ass relationship, very suggestive content, horny reader?? lol

♡ notes; we are so back. maybe sort of, i feel like this might actually suck.

the title is silly and very straightforward but i like stevie nicks and thought it was cute <3

also the vibe of the dress, thin ass sundresses are such a good plot device 😩

also also i wasn’t sure where to end this so it’s kind of a cliffhanger for a potential smutty sequel?? lmk if you even want more tommy ig

okay mwah love you goodbye

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

“It’s kind of big on me,” You told Luda Mae softly, swishing the skirt slightly. The dress hung past your knees and the straps wanted to slip off your shoulders “Ionno if it looks good.”

You felt vulnerable. Naked, in such a thin, loose white gown. You didn’t like that Monty and Hoyt would see you in it. Or…the other one. Thomas. The one that made your cheeks feel hot and your stomach twist in knots. He looked at you like you were food when you’d first encountered him…but now you’d been there a few days, he avoided you, like you made him nervous in one way or another.

“Oh, nonsense, you look lovely. I’m sure Tommy will love it. Besides, I can take it in at the waist if you really need, maybe find you a nice ribbon to go ‘round it.” She pinched the fabric to make it hug your form tighter and you went red.

“I think it’s good like this. But. Um, it’s kind of cool in here. Maybe I can wear a shawl...”

“Don’t you worry about that- you’re going to go outside and get some sun. Tommy has chores to do but I’ve got work. Can’t have you by yourself all day.” She affectionately pinched your cheek.

You gave a soft noise but knew complaint was futile. At least it wasn’t the Sheriff- even Luda wanted you kept far from his leering gaze. You followed her, barefoot in the soft grass until you got to a small clearing. There was a shed, and a barn, and lumber waiting to be chopped.

You thought you’d get out of it as she sat you down, maybe Tommy was busy. Maybe he was looking for coeds to kill somewhere else, and Luda would let you stay in your quiet little room where you could pretend you weren’t a hostage. Heavy footsteps told you were wrong after a long moment.

You twisted a blade of grass in your hands as Luda whispered sternly to him. Something about “stay” and “take” and “sooner rather than later”. You tried not to think about it. The man huffed exasperatedly and his mother swatted him softly before she marched off - his back still to you as she disappeared over the hill. You were grateful he ignored you and yet unnerved by the fact.

Thomas kept his head down, face obstructed by his hair even more than usual as he grabbed a few large branches from the lumber pile and brought them to a sturdy oak stump. Still eyeing him warily you leaned back, naturally on guard but also curious. He was so strong it seemed impossible. He was bulky-obviously- but in the real way lumberjacks and construction workers were with thick arms and a soft stomach. His hair was nice. Dark and thick, and not greasy like you’d expect. You’d been close enough when he’d slung you over his shoulder to tell it was soft. And his hands were huge and calloused - you knew that from way he’d held onto you then, massive palm on your thigh to keep you steady. You had been wearing shorts and…

You gave a soft sigh, not realizing you were still staring at him until his head whipped around at the sound. You felt your ears burn and coughed, looking away. He was down to just an undershirt as he’d started chopping the lumber - ironically using an axe instead of that chainsaw he’d been swinging around a few nights back. “Sorry- I- don’t stop on account of….”

Your voice died in your throat as he walked towards you, stopping barely a foot away. He looked concerned- more so as he knelt and you flinched. God you still couldn’t tell if you wanted him on top of you or a thousand miles away. He brushed your hair back and— you giggled quietly. He was checking your forehead, thinking you were sick.

Thomas scowled a bit at you, sitting back as you looked up at him “I shouldn’t laugh. But that was sweet. I’m not sick- don’t think so, at least.”

He tilted his head at you. He really didn’t talk. That’d make things difficult…at least at first.

“It’s just kind of hot out…plus- um- oh—“ You blinked as his hand brushed the hem of the dress, where you’d just been rubbing your fingers against the lace “…it’s not my usual style. But it’s a pretty dress.”

He grunted and nodded, looking over your body quite shamelessly. In the sunlight you were sure he was able to see much more than considered appropriate. Fuck it, you thought. He was hot, his mama wanted him to like you, and most importantly he could protect you from the Sheriff and whatever weird bullshit was yet to come.

You hummed and shifted to sit back a bit more, taking his hand before he could pull away fully “…you have big hands…I can tell you work with them…but you made your mask right?”

He hesitated, staring at what almost seemed like disbelief at you before slowly nodding. You hummed and touched his cheek, rubbing a thumb on the leather. It was surprisingly soft, and so was his gaze. Whatever he was covering didn’t matter or even really interest you- you just cared you that you could see his chapped lips beneath it.

“…Tommy?” You cooed. He startled but met your eye. “Can I kiss you?”

He gave a swift and silent answer, pressing his lips to yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He was clumsy and rough, but so desperate that you couldn’t help but draw him closer, to give him what he needed. If you were touch starved he was a thousand times so, holding on to you so tight you were afraid your hips might bruise. Afraid was a strong word- you’d proudly wear any mark from that man.

As soon as you’d thought you had some control there he had you, dazed and unkempt straddling his lap. He ran a thumb over your lower lip, admiring your addled state with a contented grunt.

“…we…we should go inside. Your mom might be home soon.”

He shook his head and suddenly pulled you down- not to pin you, but to be held, his face buried your neck and his mask rubbing against your skin. As he toyed with the hem of the dress again you hummed a tune and played with his hair.

“Tommy?”

He looked up.

“…do you think they want us to go steady?”

He hesitated then tapped his left ring finger. You went red as you suddenly realized what he meant- they wanted you to get married.

“Ah…well— how about steady first?”

He nodded quickly and nuzzled your neck again.

“Good. Cuz I think steady would still cover slippin’ into the shed to have more fun before your mama gets home.”

[agender-wolfie]

Y’all need to understand what gender neutral actually means. Saying “This fic is gender neutral and there are no pronouns or descriptors used” then using “pretty girl” or “that’s my girl” immediately after is NOT gender neutral! Stay out of our spaces if you can’t respect us.

[letssimptogether]

Slashers x Pregnant! Reader

✨ reader almost gets hurt by a victim/victim uses reader as leverage — requested by anon ✨

includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, and Poly! Ghostface

warnings: mentions or possible descriptions of (slight!) violence, cursing

a/n: i might use some manga as lil cover pictures when writing multiple slashers/idk what picture to use idk i think they’re cute teehee😅🤭 anyways, sorry for the wait—i hope you all enjoy! readers pronouns are gender neutral💜💜

💜Bo Sinclair

You just finished doing the dishes, when you heard a knock at the door. Unsure it was one of the boys, you scooted from your comfy couch spot and opened the door.

To your surprise, it was not one of the boys—and much to the unexpected visitor's surprise, someone opened the damned door.

“Please, you have to help me.” The man begged in front of you, big sloppy tears pouring from his eyes.

You paused and looked at the male in front of you before raising a brow. You knew what was up, but you never had to deal with the victims before, especially now that you’re over a month pregnant—Bo really doesn’t want you talking or handling them.

“They’re going to get me,” He choke and sobbed, “I need your help.”

Unsure of what to do, you stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking of what the safest option was, but also one that wouldn’t put the boys in danger.

Over the surprise visitor's shoulder, you could see Bo approaching, and he was just a few buildings away—while staring at Bo, and trying to decide your option, the visitor turned around to catch what you were looking at and met Bo’s now rage-filled demeanor.

Quickly, he shoved you to the floor, hopping over you; only stepping on your arm. The minute Bo reached you, he gently helped you up and cupped your cheek. He then pressed a small kiss to your nose and asked you to go to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You could hear each sloshing stabbing sound and the man’s blood-curdling screams almost all night before Bo accompanied you in bed.

🩷Vincent Sinclair

You happily made your way towards the Wax Museum, a plate of food in your hand for your beloved since you know Vincent most likely hasn’t eaten yet.

Once you got to the entrance of the museum, much to your startle, the door was already open. And to make matters worse, you hear two voices giggling.

You stood still beside the entrance, your free hand holding where your womb is, pausing to think of your best option for safety for you and the growing baby. Vincent must've known of their presence, so it's only a matter of time now. Once their whispering died down, you snuck inside the building, peeking around each corner and listening to make sure nobody could see or hear you. You turned a corner too quick in your need to get to Vincent, that you bumped your hip on a nearby table, almost causing you to drop your plate. "Shit," You silently muttered, panicking slightly from your slight bump. "What was that?" A man asked just faint enough for you to hear, causing your panic to rise more. "Maybe it's the dog from earlier?" A woman responded questioningly. As if on cue, Vincent sneaks around the corner and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, while also signaling you to shush before pointing in the direction of where the intruders. He quickly puts his hand over his mask's mouth, then presses it softly to where your baby bump's growing like a little kiss. And from there, he went to take care of the two.

💜Lester Sinclair

You were riding in the truck with Lester, as he went to run errands when a stranger waved you guys down alongside the road.

“Hey! Hi—sorry to bother you guys,” The stranger stumbled nervously, “Something happened and we really need to get to our friends, would one of us be able to catch a ride to the nearest town?”

You and Lester exchanged unsure glances, but Lester agreed nonetheless. You scooted to the middle seat closer Lester, giving him one last worried glance before patting the seat for the stranger.

The three of you rode in an uncomfortable silence, occasionally making some small talk about the small town of Ambrose, and how the two of you like it.

“Ain’t too bad,” Lester spoke up, “Pretty quiet. Everyone minds their own business for the most part.”

The strangers phone started to ring, and they quickly apologized and answered, stiffening in statue after what seemed 10 seconds. They nervously side eyed Lester and you a few times, while giving verbal acknowledgments over the phone.

“Excuse me—can you stop the car?” They asked, feigning a polite exterior, their jaw quivering and the right hand upon the door handle shook nervously.

“Mhm,” Lester slowed to a stop, but before the old beat up truck could even get to a halt, the stranger opened the door, and grabbed you, pulling the both of you out of the car, leaving only Lester in the drivers seat.

“Stay back, freak! Or—or else!” The stranger shoved you to the ground, then pointing a finger to Lester, to prove a point to him that they’re not above violence.

You tried to crawl away, but the stranger had other plans.

“Get back here, bitch,” The strangers focus was too engrossed into you, they didn’t notice Lester hop out of the truck, “I heard what you did to my friends!”

The stranger went to reach for you, but was stopped by Lester pulling them back and punching perpetrator in the throat.

“Hell is wrong with you hitting a pregnant person,” Lester’s punches did not ease up until the strangers face looked like a bloody pulp.

Once he finished, he walked over to where you stood yourself up, and pulled you in for a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead and knelt down to press a kiss to your tummy.

“Y’okay, sugar?” He grasped your hand, and walked you to the truck and helped you sit down comfortably.

🩷Thomas Hewitt

You and Luda sat in the kitchen knitting things for the baby that’s on the way.

“Y/N, would you be a dear and check on the pie?” Luda politely inquired.

“Of course!” You opened the oven to check, but the pie wasn’t fully done, so you reset the timer for about 5 minutes.

You took your seat back, and continued knitting your baby blanket. Luda stood up, and started cleaning the counters and washing the dishes used to make the cherry pie.

Faint scrambling and screaming could be heard coming from the basement, but you just turned on the small radio and continuing knitting zigzags into the blankets design.

Until someone managed to scramble their way to the first floor, scrambling through the living room, and then the kitchen.

“You two! Hey! You have to help me!” The man pleaded, “He’s trying to kill me down there!”

The man pointed down in the basement, and Luda looked at him unimpressed. She was sneaking her way to find something to hit the person with without being detected, but the man grabbed onto your hand and tried pulling you with him.

“Please! You have to listen to me; he’s going to kill me—then he’s going to kill you too!” He sobbed, ripping you from your chair at the small table.

“I—” You didn’t get a chance to respond or call for help before the man pulled you outside and down the wooden steps.

“Tommy!” You hear Luda Mae call out, “They’re trying to take Y/N!”

About two minutes later, Thomas ran through the door, his chainsaw rumbling with a seething rage. Within a minute, your captor was mowed down by Thomas, who then dropped the (now off) chainsaw, and spun you in the air with his embrace, pressing his forehead to yours.

That night, Thomas made you a warm bath and you enjoyed a cool cup of sweet tea while you got to munch on the pie you and Luda made from earlier.

💜Brahms Heelshire

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, and you were waiting for Malcolm to bring groceries to the house for you and Brahms—who was hiding upstairs, waiting for your okay to come out.

You sat in the living room, sipping on your favorite hot beverage while rereading a book you started, but haven’t finished.

Faint knocking could be heard from the front door, so you placed your book and drink down, and peeled through the door.

Malcom finally arrived; which means Brahms can come out soon!

“Afternoon, Malcolm!” You gave a small smile with your greeting, which dropped when you saw the man who delivers Brahms and your groceries arrived empty handed.

“Malcolm wh—” You were cut off by his quick ramblings.

“Y/N, you have to get out of here,” He quickly blurted out, “Brahms is alive; he-he’s been living in the walls!”

Mentally, you rolled your eyes. You knew this, obviously—he is your partner after all.

“What do you mean?” You faked concern, even though you had a feeling you knew how this would end.

The grocery boy would enter, prohibited to leave; his fate sealed past the front door.

“Brahms—I SAW him, Y/N.” He huffed, pacing in a nervous circle.

“I think you’re just seeing things, Malcolm. I live here, don’t you think I’d know if he’s here? Wouldn’t I have seen or heard him?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow, trying your best to gaslight him into leaving you and Brahms alone.

He grasped your hand, “If you refuse to believe it, I have no choice. We’re getting out of here and somewhere safe.”

Little did he know, Brahms was watching the whole interaction. And boy is he pissed.

He snuck out through one of the walls, and approached Malcolm from behind.

“Y/N,” He whined, walking towards where Malcom had a grip on your wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Get him Brahms!” You cried, ripping your arm away from Malcolm and backing away.

Brahms quickly gripped Malcolm’s neck, squeezing so hard his poor face turned a blueish purple from the lack of oxygen due to Brahms’ rage.

As soon as Malcom’s body felt limp, Brahms ran towards your slightly nervous form, nuzzling his masked face into your neck, whimpering softly while rubbing your belly.

🩷Poly! Ghostface

You laid sprawled out upon the bed that the three of you shared, watching nostalgic horror movies. Your phone wasn’t too far from your reach due to the boys needing a ride later.

As if on cue, said device started ringing with Stu’s ringtone.

“Hey, babe!” You perked up, “You need me to come scoop you guys up?”

“Mhm-ow!” The sound of slapping could be heard on your end, and Stu groaned over the phone.

“Hi cutie,” Billy snatched the phone from Stu, “Seems nobody’s here. Can you come get us now?”

“Absolutely!” You beamed before hanging up, running to your car, and starting it.

Once you got to the location they sent you, you pulled into the driveway, turned your lights off, and parked the car.

With few lights lit in the house, you could only make out one figure running around in the dark rather than two. Nonetheless, you brushed it off due to how dim the house was, and you turned your music back up, rubbing your hand over the slight bump.

The figure snuck out of the house, and knocked on the window of the car.

“Are you their ride, bitch?” She sneered, “I overheard those fuck-faces on the phone talking about a ride.”

You tried to lock the doors, which you left unlocked for the boys, but the assailant was faster to open the door. She tried to rip you out of the car as you covered yourself up for defense, both not realizing the seatbelt was on.

“Billy!” You screamed out, “Stu, help please!”

The stranger retracted their fist to hit you, but was pulled back by Billy’s grip, before he plunged a knife into her. She glared at you as she tried to hit Stu who blocked her path, gladly taking a turn stabbing her in the ribs.

They dropped her, and both huddled around you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheek while their hands hold your baby bump.

[i-heart-slashers]

ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

⤷ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹. 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀. 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲, 𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗲. 𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀!

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ 🔪​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ II

𝕸𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖑 𝕸𝖞𝖊𝖗𝖘 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇫​​🇷​​🇪​​🇪​​🇿​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇦​ ​🇩​​🇪​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇭​​🇪​​🇦​​🇩​​🇱​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹​​🇸​.

You sneak up and hug him from behind or kiss his mask, and he just stops. Completely still, like you just triggered some hidden reboot button.

He won’t push you away, but he also doesn’t respond much. It’s more like his brain has to buffer the whole event.

Later though, you’ll notice him lingering closer than usual or standing protectively near you—his quiet, masked way of returning the affection.

𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖞 𝕶𝖗𝖚𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇨​​🇴​​🇨​​🇰​​🇾​ ​🇧​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇷​​🇩​ ​🇨​​🇷​​🇺​​🇲​​🇧​​🇱​​🇪​​🇸​… ​🇯​​🇺​​🇸​​🇹​ ​🇦​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇹​​🇹​​🇱​​🇪​.

At first, he plays it off with some dirty joke. “Careful, sweetheart—keep that up and I might start thinkin’ you like me.”

But then you catch the flicker of genuine surprise and confusion in his eyes—like, you actually like him?

He’ll act unaffected but starts trying to get your attention more often, fishing for compliments like a gremlin. Big “insults are my love language” energy.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝕷𝖊𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖞 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇩​ ​🇫​​🇱​​🇺​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇸​​🇼​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​ + ​🇸​​🇺​​🇷​​🇵​​🇷​​🇮​​🇸​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇫​​🇫​​🇪​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​ ​🇧​​🇦​​🇨​​🇰​.

You hug or compliment him? Expect him to be all, “The fuck are you doin’, doll?”

But then he’s smirking and pulling you onto his lap five minutes later. He pretends to hate it, but he lives for your attention.

Might try to one-up you with more affection just to prove he’s better at it. Expect chaotic cuddle fights.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳: ​🇨​​🇴​​🇱​​🇱​​🇪​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇨​​🇰​​🇾​ ​🇸​​🇲​​🇺​​🇬​​🇳​​🇪​​🇸​​🇸​, ​🇧​​🇺​​🇹​ ​🇸​​🇪​​🇨​​🇷​​🇪​​🇹​​🇱​​🇾​ ​🇸​​🇴​​🇫​​🇹​ ​🇦​​🇫​.

If you show affection to one of them, the others will instantly start teasing. “Aww, look at Paul gettin’ all blushy.”

They act like they're too cool for it, but they all secretly melt when you show each of them attention.

Dwayne's the quiet one who holds your hand later. Marko would dramatically swoon when you kiss him. David just stares at you like you're the only thing on earth worth looking at.

Group cuddles become a thing. Good luck escaping.

𝕭𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕾𝖙𝖚 𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇴​​🇵​​🇵​​🇴​​🇸​​🇮​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇪​​🇳​​🇩​​🇸​ ​🇴​​🇫​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇫​​🇱​​🇺​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇸​​🇵​​🇪​​🇨​​🇹​​🇷​​🇺​​🇲​.

Hug Billy? Compliment him? He gets tense, eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure out if this is a trap. But he wants it—he just doesn’t know how to take it.

Stu, meanwhile, is all “Awwww babe!!” and wraps you up like an overgrown puppy.

Billy eventually accepts it in private—quiet kisses and staring when he thinks you’re asleep. Stu’s openly clingy and dramatic and absolutely asks for more constantly.

𝕬𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖓 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇺​​🇳​​🇵​​🇷​​🇪​​🇩​​🇮​​🇨​​🇹​​🇦​​🇧​​🇱​​🇪​, ​🇧​​🇺​​🇹​ ​🇼​​🇪​​🇮​​🇷​​🇩​​🇱​​🇾​ ​🇸​​🇼​​🇪​​🇪​​🇹​.

Hugging him is a gamble—he might tilt his head and mime swooning… or he might just start honking that horn in your face.

But when you catch him off guard with a kiss on the cheek? He goes still, then starts doing this exaggerated silent soap-opera-style “I’ve been struck by love” bit.

Gives you little flowers or gifts from who-knows-where. He doesn’t talk, but he adores being loved.

𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝕳𝖊𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖙 (𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊) ​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇧​​🇮​​🇬​ ​🇸​​🇴​​🇫​​🇹​ ​🇹​​🇪​​🇩​​🇩​​🇾​ ​🇧​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​ ​🇪​​🇳​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇾​. ​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​​🇷​​🇼​​🇭​​🇪​​🇱​​🇲​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇧​​🇺​​🇹​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇷​​🇮​​🇱​​🇱​​🇪​​🇩​.

You kiss his cheek or hold his hand? Immediate bashful giggling and hiding behind his hands or apron.

He’s super affectionate back, just in shy and gentle ways—letting you sit on his lap while he works, holding you tight when he sleeps.

Totally the type to give you handmade gifts or carve little hearts into wood scraps for you. Precious.

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖁𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖘 ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳: ​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇹​​🇱​​🇪​ ​🇬​​🇮​​🇦​​🇳​​🇹​ ​🇲​​🇴​​🇩​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇻​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​​🇩​.

He’s so confused the first time. Like… you just hugged him?? On purpose???

But he absolutely loves it. He might not know how to show it well, but he’ll start following you around like a huge silent puppy.

Will give you the softest touches—a hand on your shoulder, a pat on your head. He’s careful, always making sure he doesn’t hurt you.

You’re the only person who gets to see this softer side of him.

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊 (𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖉) ​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​: ​🇹​​🇦​​🇱​​🇰​​🇸​ ​🇦​ ​🇧​​🇮​​🇬​ ​🇬​​🇦​​🇲​​🇪​, ​🇭​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​ ​🇬​​🇴​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇲​​🇺​​🇸​​🇭​.

Doesn't matter which Ghostface variant, they almost always talk tough. Sarcastic quips, maybe even mocking your affection a little.

But inside? MELTING.

They start low-key chasing your attention after that. “You missed your daily compliment quota, babe. Get back here.”