#tcm fanfic

[z0mibite]

>1000 words, detailed descriptions of violence and a (sort of?) mention of s/a (⚠️use of the r word ⚠️), reader is gn! and up to interpretation throughout other than being considerably smaller than thomas and one mention of possibly bearing children. open-ended, so if you prefer angst endings for reader or stockholm, you can choose, it's texas chainsaw massacre, anything that's in either movie is part of the warnings just to be safe. dead dove do not ear, read at your own risk. also this is not proofread in any way, I literally wrote this straight shot right before bed listening to dove (doll ver) on loop and hit post.

READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING

imagine tommy keeping you, not to rape and defile like his uncle assumed, nor for you to bare children like his mama had hoped—but because you're just so nice to look at.

In the first film, tommy can be seen wearing rings, jewelry he's collected from past victims. also with the whole wearing people's faces to mask his own, he obviously has an eye for pretty things. and you're one of them.

It isn't just that of course, plenty of pretty people had come onto the farm, all meeting the same fate. he hadn't spared a dozen or so others, so why would he spare you?

you hadn't flinched at the sight of him, you hadn't run away crying like a child at their first horror maze, you simply smiled at him with those sparkling eyes, an elegant hand giving him a friendly, unbiased wave. you looked at him without prejudice, or preconceived assumptions about his character.

your friends hadn't given him the same courtesy. which is why you were here, chained to the workbench near the chopping block. the block he was using to dismember your traveling companions. a few of them hung from meat hooks, catatonic, their minds were weak and feeble, they broke at the sights in front of them, and despite the agonizing pain of lost limbs and shredded muscle, they were silent and still, waiting for their turn.

death was their only escape, they needed only to wait for it. you could see it in their eyes, each time he'd finish one off and turn to grab the next off a hook, they'd all follow him with pleading eyes. not for mercy, they were far beyond the point of return—but to be next.

your entire body was shaking like a kicked chihuahua. your muscles were all tense, adrenaline begged you to run, flee, to escape death. your silly primal instinct hadn't caught up with your concious. It was an odd feeling, having every possible part of your body screaming at you to run, and choosing to stay still, to betray your instinct with your intelligence. you knew you wouldn't get far.

despite the horrid conditions in the basement, a place where your senses should be overloaded; your ears with the echoes of their screams and the engine of the saw, your eyes with the gory mess, your nose with the pungent smell of iron and rotting flesh, your tongue with the dryness of your mouth from panting, and your body's fatigue from running around for hours—there was nothing but the racing of your heartbeat.

It was all you could hear or feel, and in your mind you could taste and see it as well, you felt the pulse rise all the way into your skull and down to your toes. you felt every rush of blood heat your skin like a furnace, moving past your veins and tissue.

your eyes aimlessly followed his body, unblinking and dry. he was deeply focused on his ‘work’, but he would still glance at you every now and again. you were just so pretty, a decoration in his safe haven, like a deer mounted above the fireplace.

hours had passed in what felt like seconds before he was finished. you hadn't moved.

he nonchalantly came up to you, his much larger hand going to cup your face before he froze. he withdrew his hands, wiping the bloody mess on his apron and washing his hands before he continued his previous action.

you didn't dare move, not even to flinch, as his held your head in your hands.

his thumbs caressed the flesh just under your eyes, rubbing around and about, seemingly fascinated by the way your skin folded and stretched at his will. he made a gesture with his hands, swiping a palm in front of your eyes, an attempt at communicating. when you didn't respond, he huffed frustratedly before letting his thumbs touch your eyelids, forcing them down to close your eyes.

he took your chin in-between two fingers, maneuvering your head in every direction, studying every feature. his thumb pulled your lips apart, showing him your teeth, clenched so hard they might be pushed back underneath your eye sockets.

after a he took some time to study you, you felt his thumbs come back to rest on your eyelids, pulling them open again. this time he studied your iris. he was clearly upset at the lack of light that prevented him from seeing the color clearly, but he looked closely nonetheless.

the sensation of breath enveloping your face, forcing you to breathe in the air he had just released, was one you could not describe.

his hands fell to your shoulders and moved downward till he got to your forearms, where he would trace the veins in your arms. when his hand met your wrist, he applied gentle pressure to it, his breath hitching as he felt your blood pulsate. he moved onto your hands now.

his were easily twice the size of yours, if not more. his nails were dull and blunt, the skin much rougher against yours. dried blood cracked underneath his nails and stained his skin a pinkish tone despite his tan. he traced the lines of your palm the same way a palm reader would, take away the tales of life lines and replace them with pure admiration.

he unexpectedly leaned in closer to you, his face now inches, if that, from your own. you kept your gaze ahead as he stared you down.

he brought his masked nose up to the top of your head and sniffed you like a dog, leaning down to your neck to see what else he could smell on you besides your faded fragrance and sweat.

It was only after this action of his that your body responded in any way in nearly 12 hours.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

LEATHERFACE | BUBBA SAWYER (TTCM & TTCM P2 | TCM: Next Generation a little)

—

Being in a relationship w/ Leatherface (and coexisting w/ the Sawyer Family) (Bubba Sawyer | Leatherface x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW-ish, mature themes, canon typical violence & gore, murder, normalized violence, (TW: Cannibalism, human-skin leather), sawyer family appearances, brief mentions of sex, slasher shit -soft!girly!reader & kind of callous!reader

Pic source: beg./middle•The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) & end•The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2

Happy 3 days till Halloween!!! 🎃

The only reason you had been spared was because of how earnestly you’d taken to them. You’d been hitchhiking too when Nubbins asked to ride with the crew you were with. But keeping to yourself in the farthest corner of the van you’d looked so alert that Nubbins had kept his taunting for the others and stayed clear of bothering with you entirely in case the aura you were immitting — despite your pretty dust riddled clothes — wasn’t just his imagination.

Still though when Nubbins starts to show off his polaroids to bring the group's guards down you pay the most attention, even complimenting some of his more atmospheric shots before tucking back into yourself.

Nubbins is so shocked he just asks to be let out afterwards, not even having cut himself or properly antagonized anyone the way he’d perfected over the last couple of months.

Really it’s the others’ insistence on poking around after Nubbins had told them a “ghost story” about cannibals in the dust storms that gets them murdered. Nubbins hadn’t wanted to deal with you (at least not without Bubba), and had lowkey been flattered by your compliments, so he’d let you guys go.

When you make it a point to just be on your way after the Sawyer’s latest grocery delivery starts trespassing all over their private land, and run into Drayton and Bubba coming back from a trip out of town, the conversation the older man starts up with you isn’t even laden with ulterior motive.

Bubba is immediately smitten by the flash of a smile you give him when you catch sight of him unmasked before he has a chance to duck from where he’s sitting in the truck bed. And how you don’t recoil and hardly bat a lash at him after he hastily ties on his mask has him ready to argue with his older brother about inviting you to dinner and not letting you go before Drayton’s even halfway through talking with you.

He doesn’t need to do much convincing however because Drayton’s already got his hat off like the southern gentlemen he isn’t, and you’ve got your head tilted as you listen to him, guarded gaze growing softer the longer you keep catching Bubba stealing glances at you.

You’re honest though, and the pseudo patriarch likes that. Coupled with the fact he keeps applying “manners” to what’s really just your soft spoken bluntness, and he’s convinced you’re exactly the womanly presence the family needs before the day’s done.

You’re aimless and/or disowned anyway so you take Drayton up on his invite back to the house and the rest is pretty cut and dry (this is pre the first movie). You don’t participate in the deaths of your past companions, but you're introduced up close and personal to the reality of the Sawyers pretty quickly.

When “Leatherface” comes out and that chainsaw revs up you’ve got front row seats to the blunt chains tearing through flesh and cracking open bone and are covered in enough blood by the time the group of idiots you’d been traveling with are all killed with extreme prejudice to feel damn near baptized in it.

Enough blood to drive Bubba crazy and have him being mercilessly teased by Nubbins over the chub he’s sporting in his trousers.

For your part, you just go with everything (at first) so you won’t end up next. And you’re lonely enough that it doesn’t take long before you're not faking it, whether you want to believe it or not.

News Flash: You’re not very motherly at all, but by the time you’ve kindly handed Drayton his ass over whatever “woman’s work” he’d tried to give you for the last time it’s too late for him to take back his endorsements.

Bubba would kill his ass for one, and being so busy bothering you was actually slowing down all those episodes Chop Top always pretended not to have because of the war. So you stay, but Drayton thinks you’re one helluva con artist and you just tell him that it takes one to know one even though you never once sold him a lie.

You simply refuse to be “mammyfied” and that’s that.

Bubba is in love with your wardrobe almost as much as he is with you.

The first time he comes requesting you do one of your makeup looks — something more 70’s glamor for his tastes, even if it’s not a style you’d usually do — on a carefully carved out face mask, though, you pause.

It’s nearly a make or break aspect in your relationship, but if you accept this part of him (really accept it, enough to participate) then there’s no going back. No lying to yourself about just being a hostage or only acting out of duress every time you didn’t try running away or scream out to any of the Sawyer family’s victims before they were slaughtered.

When you do help out with the makeup for his mask Bubba sticks to you like glue the entire time. Part of it is just him liking to watch you work — and him wanting to study your process to (somewhat clumsily at first) recreate on his own later. The rest of the reason is that he’s so used to having his things messed with that he’s keeping an eye on you just in case, no matter how unlikely it is you’d steal from him or destroy his mask just to fuck with him.

It’s just— there was the drought, then the layoffs, then starvation, and his only family either died or got meaner. Bubba is destined to get defensive with you too sometimes, it’s not personal.

With trespassers it’s kind of personal though — refer back to the first couple bullet points.

If anyone on the goddamn planet is going to piss you off to no end it’s going to be Chop Top. Where Nubbins will accidentally mistake one of your scarves or washcloths for an oil rag, his twin will fuck your shit up or steal it completely on purpose.

Alternatively, every time Nubbins breaks or dirties something of yours without realizing he’s dismissive as hell about telling you it happened because he hates admitting he made a mistake, but he will try to give you a replacement taken off a victim or that he’s made in his version of an apology.

With Chop Top, though, you’ll see him wearing your shit one day and be too disgusted by whatever he’s done with it to want it back. And if it’d lead to anything good you’d strangle him again for his bullshit, but the last time you’d gone at one another’s throats you’d triggered him to the point of screaming nonsense while he held a knife to your throat and Bubba ended up breaking a table after throwing him into it while you recuperated on the ground.

So yeah, you don’t put your hands on each other anymore, but you definitely still cuss one another out on a regular basis.

The welts the edge of the blade left against the brown skin of your throat sent Bubba into so much distress that you vowed to stop trying to fight Chop Top just to never see that reaction from your partner again.

Bubba is the main cook in the house (the only other person who regularly touches the kitchen being the oldest of his brothers), and he is by no means bad at it outside of his tendency to get heavy-handed with his seasonings whenever he’s got some. However, you will not eat anything with meat in it from him (so long as you do eat meat) unless you watched an animal being put in there.

He finds this stipulation incredibly insulting at first, but you refuse to not draw the line there.

You paint flowers onto his kitchen apron to make up for his hurt and he forgives you pretty easily after though.

You have to make a hard distinction between what of your makeup he can use on his masks and what makeup he can or cannot share between you both that’s strictly for your own bare faces. The first time he’d asked to use some of your blush and you’d found him powdering a dead woman’s face you’d just about passed away yourself, and thus the rules swiftly followed.

Bubba always praises you whenever you get dolled up – in whatever way he sees fit: kissing your cheeks or the back of your hands, picking you flowers, twirling you around, clapping for you – but let any of his brothers make one comment on how pretty you look and he’s arguing with them.

At first Drayton cannot stand the scent of the flowers you or Bubba start bringing into the house and/or the perfume that you wear, but that’s only until he realizes how much better the scents were at making people stop at the shop. Add to that the lavender you planted keeping way more flies away and Drayton was convinced you were some kind of good luck charm. He’ll allow you this one win specifically despite how much he bitched about the smell beforehand (and the fact that he still thinks you’re one of the best liars he’s ever met).

The first time you help any of the Sawyers prep a dead animal they’re all surprised, but really you can only roll your eyes. Regardless of if you came with knowledge on how to properly kill and prep an animal to be eaten, or you diligently asked Bubba or Drayton to teach you, your appearance didn’t have shit to do with your actual ability to learn or have certain skills.

Drayton shockingly muttering that he thought you were just a delicate flower after you turn to him with a handful of guts in your hand is funny though.

Well, funny until Chop Top grabs the fist full of guts in your hand and motorboats them. You suck your teeth so hard as you watch him act a fool, eyes rolling, that Bubba stops cleaving to cast you a concerned look.

You’re either going to become a hardcore vegan or vegetarian or you're not, alright? I don’t make the rules of the universe. Outside of literal cannibalism most of the only other meat available is going to be the rare hunted animal or fresh-enough roadkill. Times are tough, but Drayton does want to start a garden now.

The only functioning fan in the whole house is in the room you share with Bubba (this doesn’t have anything to do with liking girly shit, you just refuse to be so hot all the time).

Instead of struggling with it for half an hour every time he’s in a more feminine headspace Bubba comes to you to tie on the silver bell bracelet he wears; you kiss his wrist whenever you’re finished.

Whenever you paint your nails you make sure to paint his too. You kiss each one of his fingers when you’re done, and he does the same to you while hard as a fucking rock and seconds away from begging to fuck you.

There isn’t a chance you’re ever going to try Drayton’s chili, no matter how fucking butt hurt he gets.

Whenever you cry, Bubba cries too.

Bubba definitely appreciates you helping him out. Whether being his assistant while he’s butchering or bringing him something to eat or just keeping him company so he doesn’t feel left out. Since it’s the kind of attention he for sure never gets from his brothers he cherishes it from you.

He will do nothing but stare at you if you sit down to do your makeup or otherwise get dolled up in any way, he can’t help himself. If you ask him to hand you something he’ll do it like he’s in a trance, he just likes seeing you come together like that and will be in awe. Blow him a kiss, he’ll blush.

Introduce him to ascots, I think he’d like them.

Whenever you wear your only pair of heels and your daisy dukes Bubba can’t keep his eyes off you, eyes glued to your black ass like it’s the second coming. You can’t help but tease him with the sway of your hips, it’s just too easy to coax those cute blushing looks out of him.

It’s only fair. The sight of him in his swim shorts always makes you go a little boy crazy too.

The “grandma” mask throws you off more than his others, especially considering he doesn’t wear it when he’s around you very often. He wears it when he’s cooking or doing more mundane house work (usually to contend himself with having to slip into the more “traditionally feminine” role his brothers refuse to), and if he’s not in his kitchen apron he wears an antique house dress that really makes him look like a little old lady from afar. You just watch him do it and keep him company. Whenever you try to help it kind of depends on his mood if he’ll let you. You’ll need to ask him where he wants you, don’t just guess.

Bubba teaches you how to whittle bones. He also most definitely gifts you some of the jewelry he makes out of his victim’s bones/teeth or gifts you stolen jewelry (and other things he thinks you might like) from the people he kills.

Bubba is chief decorator of the house mostly of his own accord. He wittles, strings things up, and builds all kinds of furniture out of bones and feathers and other miscellaneous things he finds that he thinks are pretty and is so calm while doing it you just sit down and watch him work with a little smile on your face.

He will 100% braid your hair (and is a quick study when you want it done a specific way) with yarn — which is easier to get than braiding hair where you are, or delicately twist decorative feathers and charms into your cornrows.

He massages oil into your scalp too and you always fall asleep with your head in his lap.

He does a lot of yard work also, so if you’re dedicated to spending a lot of time with him you will be outside often. He’s perfectly content with just having your company and your assistance here and there, but if you want to do more he won’t stop you outside of the really big jobs he has to do.

Sometimes you just dress up cutely in your overalls and boots and sit around looking pretty and soaking sun into your already sun-kissed skin for the whole day and he loves that about as much as you being his assistant. (You have sunscreen, it’s fine.)

Oftentimes you knit or sew (if you know how), but most often you’re reading a book or entertaining Bubba with anecdotes from one of the week's newspapers.

Bubba’s ass is strong. He can and will pick you up, and watching him swing a hammer borders on…overwhelming.

His clothes are the only ones you mend or help wash at all. You’re not a maid, but he respects your time and doesn’t demand it so you help him out because he’s your partner and you choose to. Also, blood stains are a bitch to get out (even when you leave them in the sun to “bleach” after washing) and Bubba gets covered in blood the most for the family so you’re not just going to leave him hanging.

“Leatherface” is lowkey a moniker that was created to taunt Bubba. The twins gave him the nickname after he started wearing his masks and it kind of stuck with everyone. You don’t use it just based off how Chop Top and Them tend to throw it in Bubba’s face whenever they’re irritated with him, but you will use the ambiguity of the moniker when talking about your chainsaw wielding partner to any trespassers and/or victims just to get them extra apprehensive.

When you got to the point where seeing him covered in blood started turning you on you spiraled a bit for sure. You kind of just embrace how aroused it makes you now though, and Bubba gets endlessly flattered.

You still wouldn’t have him any other way, really. Or the rest of his fucked up, irritating family. Even Grandpa (though you do still avoid him like the plague even when you're helping Bubba care for and feed him).

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!🧡

Honestly, after Chromeskull, Bubba is probably my favorite slasher. Anyway, this was fun! I’ll also definitely write more of these at some point too!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[thewolffairytaler]

Hi🌹✨

I hope it's not too inappropriate but may I request a pregnant reader x Thomas Hewitt? Like fluff, how he'd be overprotective, obsessed💐❤️

Thank you🌸🪻

One devoted husband | Obsessed Thomas Hewitt x pregnant reader

_____________________________

Summary: It ain’t easy living in Texas, but it isn't easier to survive with the Hewitt family. However, Thomas does remind her of why she even obliged to stay with him. He makes it nice. He can't always protect her from his own family and their viewpoints, but he does make it better. Even when they are times where she questions if he would ever turn on her too.

The promise of a July rain and the aroma of wildflowers filled the hot Texas air. Thomas moved with surprising gentleness, adjusting the thin blanket around his partner, his face motionless and unreadable beneath the hideous mask of stitched-together skin. Beneath the fading flowered frock, her bulging belly from their child had a soft curvature that contrasted sharply with the hardness of their surroundings.

In the harsh terrain of his life, her presence had created a tenuous haven. The world had been a clamour of hunger and need before she arrived, a never-ending battle for existence. With Y/n, his life now had meaning that was interwoven with everything else. She may not have initially been drawn to him out of full commitments, but rather by her own compass of survival and a whispered sense of pity in the mute, scarred guy. At this shift in him, the other men in his family complained, their eyes narrowed in mistrust, but Thomas ignored them. He was hers and Y/n was his. For her, he was an oddity made of damaged mind and muscle, a beast against the world.

He watched her now, her hands gently stroking the growing swell of their child, her eyes the soft colour of a weathered palette. She was radiant, even with the dust that clung to her skin and the worry that sometimes flickered across her face. He reached out a hand, calloused and scarred, and hesitantly touched her arm, his hum deepening into something akin to a rumble of contentment. She turned to him, a small smile gracing her lips, and he felt something within him loosen, a tension he hadn't even realised he held. Y/n knew him, understood the chaotic storm raging beneath the leather mask. She saw the silent tenderness, the longing for something gentle, something good.

Carefully guiding her through the house's tight threshold, he brought her inside. His senses were overwhelmed with the familiar smells of old wood, grease, and dried blood, yet even these smells seemed subdued today, somehow mellowed by the strawberry-sweet perfume that Y/n always wore. He had observed her meticulously caring for the little patch of berries and wildflowers she had planted close to the porch. little bursts of colour in the otherwise subdued, dusty environment. It demonstrated her tenacity and the obstinate optimism that blossomed amid the violence and mayhem she encountered upon her arrival. He led her to the old, woven armchair, its stuffing spilling out in places, and carefully helped her settle in. He retrieved a worn blanket, another of Y/n's small comforts, and tucked it around her with painstaking care.

His hum became to a steady, gentle throb of devotion as he continued to stare at her. She captivated him with the soft curve of her belly and the miracle that blossomed beneath her skin. In a manner that words could not express, he realised that he was now inseparable from her and the child she was carrying. With all his might and resources, he would defend them, even if it meant facing Hoyt's wrath.

His typical lumbering pace was a sharp contrast to his precise, almost delicate, movements as he made his way to the kitchen. He poured her a glass of milk, being especially cautious not to spill any. A tablespoon of honey, a rare treat he had discovered tucked away in the ancient pantry, was added. With his gaze fixed on her face, he brought it to her and watched as she took tiny, delicate sips, her cheeks turning a gentle shade of pink.

He crouched beside her chair, resting his large hand on her knee, feeling the gentle warmth of her skin. He pressed his cheek to her leg, nuzzling against her in a way that was almost kittenish. Y/n’s hand came to rest on the back of his head, her fingers gently combing through the short, rough hair beneath the leather. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mask, her lips lingering for a moment. It was a silent communication, a declaration of a love that somehow defied logic and expectation, a tenderness that bloomed in the shadows of their harsh reality.

This frail woman and the baby developing inside her were his entire universe. Yes, he was obsessed since their welfare had become the centre of his universe. Within the walls of their dilapidated, dusty house, he would hunt, guard, and create a safe haven. If only for her, he would learn how to be a partner and to treat the delicate miracle of life with the same tenderness and care that he had grown to love her. He had no desire to subject children to the suffering of his world. He would be their silent, loyal guardian, keeping them secure and loved. With complete devotion, he would offer them everything he had, which at the time was everything of himself. The dust motes swirling in the air were illuminated by the Texas sunlight streaming through the dirty window, and for a brief moment, there was calm in the little, peaceful area of the earth they had made. And in that tranquilly, a silent vow between a silent man and his expectant wife blossomed, a love as wild and fierce as the land around them.

[creepling]

that boy is a monster - j. slaughter / 2.6k

in contribution with THE HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompts: sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

summary: everyone comes and goes from the slaughter residence, either as survivors or stacks of meat. but as you escape and run further into the woods, johnny won't let you go that easy.

tags: DEAD DOVE - read at your own risk. smut. MINORS DNI. fem!reader. non-con. hunter/prey. knife/blood-play. descriptive injury. narcissistic johnny. fem penetration. blood hunger. choking. roughplay. slapping. kidnapped ending.

It would help to know the surroundings. Sprint the track to get to the finish line. But you’re bleeding. Your legs ache, and the tree branches are tearing at your skin. The calls of the Slaughter family echo in the distance.

Running for your life is supposed to be the escape. You’re out of the house, but your heroic end is not at a close. You have to keep running. You have to survive. And one person, in particular, will not give you up so easily.

“You’re the reason this is happening. You brought them damn kids here. You go get ‘er!” Drayton told off Johnny, waving his bloody stick towards the exit you stumbled out of.

Johnny was cool in his stance. He is cleaning his knife, sharpening its blade. He admires the glint of it in the moonlight, a sly smirk winking back at him in its reflection.

“Keep yer panties on, old man. I’ll get her,” He brushes off the Cook, swaggering towards the gate.

With his family seeing him off, Nubbie chuckles and cheers him on. Sissy claps and howls. “Bring her back fresh now, ye hear!”

Johnny was not going to share. He wants to play with his food and keep you all to himself. Once he finds you, you’re going to scream. He will have your insides, grip your flesh and suck your blood. His family will not have a nip of you. You’re all his.

The beginning of the hunt sent Johnny’s instincts into overdrive. Your shadow mystifies into the forest, and he picks up the pace to dive into the belly of the beast. He grunts as he sprints, inhaling the air. He was only human, but everything in his attitude was animalistic. A coyote in a man’s body, wanting to catch your scent, embarks on the trail you left behind and chases you until your soft flesh is between his teeth.

Deep within the sun-dried trees, Johnny halts his speed and listens to the silence. He peered his hearing for the snap of a twig, the ruffle of a leaf, anything to assume you were close by. He crouches to the earth and calculates the ground. His eye caught an indent, your shoe print heavy in the dry dirt, the heel dragged out, exposing your struggle. Johnny was mesmerised for a moment, then he advanced, tailing the track of your footprints to the direction of your hiding spot. He arrives at a dead end, cursing under his breath. He catches a look above, checking the trees, but both the trees and you are too fragile to hold weight. His eyes scan the horizon, wondering how far you have gone.

“I’m gonna find ya soon enough, sweetheart. Why don’t you come out, and we can get this over with?” Johnny called into the night, his skin tingling at the thought of you nearby.

He was closer than you thought. Tugged low in the dip of the earth, you bite the inside of your cheeks and muffle any sound of panic that threatens to burst. You may be bleeding, tired, and traumatised, but you will not give up. If he wants you to meet the same faint as your friends, he will have to come and get you.

At the deafening silence, Johnny sighs. It was long and drawn, but it soon shifted into a chuckle, and he gripped the handle of his knife tighter. “Fine, I like the challenge.”

Johnny advances, his footsteps descending to whisper when you decide to leave your hiding spot. You drag your limping body in the opposite direction, clenching your side as a cramp takes over. You look around with alert eyes, hoping to find an opening or another hiding spot if he is close. Your hope dwindles at the same scenery repeating: trees, branches, dirt. Over and over. No sounds alert you, making your eyelids droop and blur your vision. You look down at your body, your clothes drenched in blood, giving sense to your lightheadedness. The blood loss and dehydration were slowly creeping up and taking over you. Legs wobbling, making you fall.

“Come on,” You whispered, “You can do this.”

Johnny had his eyes on you. He watches you struggle, crouching within the dry branches. Your pain and fatigue amuse him, reassuring him that mortality can be handy for this line of passion. He loved a prey’s fear, how it ignites them with the endurance to keep living. Yet, the thing that is chasing them will always catch them. It can only get them so far. It lets them die with a fight still in them. People call that honour, but to Johnny, it is the thrill of the game.

It has been long enough. Johnny watches you collapse, grunting at the pain taking over, your knees buckling as you try to crawl your way further. Johnny cracks his neck and readies his blade, his heavy steps approaching you.

“I gotta hand it to ya. You got some fight in ya,” Johnny mused, towering over your struggling state.

The widening of your eyes made Johnny chuckle, tuts leaving his mouth as you began to sob.

“Come on now, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Not yet, anyway,” Johnny grips the back of your hair, yanking your head from the ground and crouching down on top of you. His legs saddle your sides, squeezing in to hold you in place. You catch the glint of his knife hovering over your throat, threatening to slice if you struggle.

“Ma mama always got at me for playing with my food as a kid. I never grew out of it. Y’know why?” Johnny presses his lips to your ear. You could now hear the husk in his voice.

“Because I fuckin’ love it,”

Your hands grip the earth, and a scream bellows from your strained throat, sirening through the trees, making birds take flight. Johnny shoves your head to the ground to silence you, pressing his blade tighter to the skin of your throat.

“You shout one more time, and I’ll cut you,” He spat, causing you to dwindle your struggle into small whimpers.

“Just kill me, please,” You plead, Johnny on top of you, detecting that you would rather be dead than be at his mercy.

Johnny enjoys having the upper hand far too much, grazing his gloved hand down your spine, lingering on the skin exposed from your summer blouse. He glances at the cuts littering your exposed arms, blood dripping from a knick on your shoulder. Johnny licks his lips in anticipation, locking his lips on your wound. You gasp, cringing at the suction from his mouth, his tongue swirling around the cut and soaking his mouth with your blood.

As if energy surged through him, Johnny groans at your taste, licking his lips dry. Your taste is sweetly metallic. He has never tasted something so pure—the blood of a lamb or a calf, laced with innocence and avoidant of bitterness. Johnny’s eyes wander down at you like the discovery of the Holy Grail. “You taste amazing.”

Johnny grips your arm and manhandles you to lie on your back, your arms feeble in your struggle. Johnny scans your body for more wounds, grunting in annoyance as most were muddy grazes. His legs add pressure to your sides, his hand nipping at the hem of your blouse.

“Keep still,” Johnny orders sternly, moving his knife to your shirt and cutting the thin fabric with the blade. You whine in defiance, but your top is torn off completely and tossed to one side. Johnny stares at the curvature of your bra, tucking his knife under the band and slicing it swiftly. Your breasts graze with goosebumps at your exposure. You squeeze your eyes shut from the humility. Johnny runs his knife down your left breast, the blunt end teasing your hardening nipple.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” He breathes out, removing his glove with the pinch of his teeth. His bare, rough hand grips your breast, making you squirm. You glance up at Johnny, the maddening of his eyes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you in place. Sweat glistens on his face. You feel warmth between your legs as Johnny’s bulge presses against your stomach.

Without warning, Johnny slices a small incision on your soft breast, making you gasp from the shot of pain. Johnny immediately locks his lips on the fresh slice, his tongue collecting your new blood, letting a groan vibrate against you. He sucks your breast as he would with your nipple, except his infatuation is solely on your blood. Your fingers lace through his hair, and you attempt to yank him away, but he points his blade quickly to your throat.

“Move your hand, or I’ll cut you open,” Johnny threatens, pressing the blade hard, alerting panic within you.

“I can’t- I can’t do this, please,” You beg, “I want to go home,”

“Is this not want you want, darlin’?” Johnny teased, “Your cunt says otherwise.”

His head motions down and between your legs, sliding his fingers along the denim fabric of your shorts. Your throat hitches, and your legs tense, locking eyes with the darkening stare from Johnny.

“You want this, I know you want this,” Johnny mutters against his lips, “Let me make you feel good. I need this, darlin’, you gotta give yourself to me.”

His lips lock roughly with yours, his kiss hard - possibly laced with a lingering passion. You taste your blood on his tongue. You moan unexpectedly.

“See? You taste so good. Let me taste you more,” Johnny said as if he were asking, but you know you have no choice.

The sound of panic bubbles in your throat as you feel Johnny’s hands unbutton your shorts, yelping as he tugs the tight fabric down your legs. He crawls his fingers under your pants, catching your slick cunt with the tip of his fingers, collecting your wetness. Johnny groans, reaching his fingers to his lips and licking your juices. Just as sweet as your blood, warm and intoxicating.

Johnny grinds his hips down onto you before unbuckling his jeans, tossing his belt to your eye level. Your eyes trail to the sky, your mind dissociating at the sound of his jeans undone. Johnny preys your legs wider apart with his thighs, the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“You’re so wet for me, darlin’. Still sure you don’t want this?” Johnny’s pride swells at your defeat, pupils dilated at the sight of yours glazed and lost.

“I would rather be dead,” You said airily, almost inaudible. Johnny narrows his eyes, power swelling in his muscles. He wants you to beg for his cock or mercy; it does not matter.

Without warning, Johnny thrusts his cock inside, and pain shoots up your spine. He was big, more significant than you have ever taken, and he was stretching you out. You squeeze your eyes shut, and the tears trapped in your waterline pour down your cheeks. You silence the yelps filled with pain to adjust to the horrible feeling. But your cunt was wet, wet enough for Johnny to thrust deeper inside you and hold his length firmly inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Johnny groaned. Your walls clenched around his cock, and his hands grip the sides of your waist. “Sucha tight little pussy,” Johnny chuckled.

You shift your body back and forth to adjust to the pain, but it paralysed you, and Johnny drilled you deeper into the ground with the weight of his body. The cool earth stings your wounds and gathers in the grooves of your skin. It is disgusting. It is revolting. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Fuck you,” You spit at Johnny, manifesting your cunt to grow teeth and bite his cock clean.

Johnny furrowed his brows at your revolt, burning a glare to your core. “The fuck you say to me?” Johnny smacked your face, stunning you, but you force eye contact.

“I said fuck you, you fucking-“ Your rage stopped short at the shuddering pain shooting through you. Johnny digs his knife into your side, toying with an open wound. You squirm, scream, try to pry him off you, but his other hand pins your wrists above your head, and his cock is stuffed deeper inside you.

“You really think talking to me like that is a good idea?” Johnny scoffs, watching the pain in your expression with perverted fascination. “Such a stupid ‘lil brat. I need to teach you a lesson.”

The pain melted into numbness. Your eyes drift further away from reality, and Johnny amps his stamina. It seemed neverending, his cock pumping into your cunt, the depth of his thrusts consistent. Johnny’s body towers over you, his knife tossed to the side. It proved useless as your body grew limp, the strength of Johnny’s arms pinning you in place enough to restrict your escape. No more were you retaliating to Johnny’s dominance.

“That’s it, good girl. Take it,” Johnny grunted, but he was not satisfied with your reaction. Lying there as you get fucked dumb, staring into space. He needs you to be compliant, to be grateful. Johnny tugs your hair and forces your gaze onto him, bathing in your bewildered stare.

“C’mon girl, I know you want this. Say how much you want it,” Johnny demands, continuing to rut into your pulsing cunt.

“I-” It was hard to string words together, but you had nowhere to look except deep in Johnny’s hunter eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Say it, fucking say it,” Johnny grew impatient, smacking his fingers over your cheeks, hoping that knocked sense into you.

“I want you, Johnny,” You sobbed, mesmerised by his insanity.

“Yeah, you fucking do. Start thanking me for fucking you so good,” Johnny enfolds his cock deep inside, holding it in place until you speak what he wants to hear.

“Thank you,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “You’re so good at fucking me. I want you to keep fucking me.”

Swelling with pride, Johnny exhales a deep groan and continues to drill into you, picking up the pace. He felt his climax ascending from his core, gazing at the bounce of your tits, your plump skin covered in the blood he poured from you. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’m so close, darlin’. Fuuuck,” Johnny wraps his callous hand around your throat, suppressing your air flow until you see stars.

Johnny rutted his cock to ride his high. You feel the strips of warmth melt from your slit as he pulls out, his pants hot and misty against your neck. Your eyes trail over to Johnny, buckling his jeans and quickly putting on your underwear and shorts.

“Sorry about your blouse,” He mutters, removing his tank top and putting it on you. There is no point in convincing yourself he did it out of the kindness of his heart, as it is to carry you back to the place you tried to escape from and not make the rest of the family suspicious.

Johnny lifts you and tosses your body over his shoulder, your mind and body too exhausted and petrified to wiggle from his grasp. “Let’s take you back home,” He says.

Home. That place was not your home. But to Johnny, he is making it your home. There goes the days of elaborate escapes, deception and retribution. He will have you wrapped around his figure. He shall convince you that no one else cares for you. Only he will protect you, care for you, and love you. 

Welcome to the family. 

[cherubdollyy]

NSFW ABC - Bubba Sawyer

18+ MDNI

author's notes: reader's gender isn't specified but there is a quick reference to breasts and language eluding to specific genitals etc but I tried to cover all bases (so you can pick and choose what suits you.). Voyeurism is mentioned and light bdsm. One very minor mention of animal death but I promise it's not sad!!

Bubba is my sweet baby boy and I love him so much so I hope you guys enjoy!!! <3

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) - super clingy and cuddly. You're not going anywhere while bubba is in his afterglow. He feels possessive of you but he also wants you to feel so loved after doing the deed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) - he's a little self concious and it took him a LONG time before he could even think about taking his mask off in front of you. But with all the praise and love you show him he's learnt to love himself especially his squishiness because that's what he loves about you. He loves how soft and kind and innocent you are and the gentle touches you give him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) - Seeing you on your knees with his cum dripping out of your mouth makes him go wild. A lot of the times he cums quickly because he's an excitable boy and everything is pretty new to him. You're both often a mess by the end of it, cum dripping out of you, him smeared with your juices but he'll always clean you up. It doesn't matter how tired you both are, he'll take a cool wet cloth and wipe you up so gently taking his time to get every inch. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - Bubba is a bit of a perv. He doesn't want to admit it, mainly because he hasn't had a lot of time to express himself sexually so he doesn't know how to communicate what he wants. He often watches you change. He'll try and peek through the door to watch you undress but he's not very quiet about it. He also masturbates a lot when you've gone to town to get supplies. When he's in his workshop he'll unzip his pants and pump himself while thinking about you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) - our boy doesn't have a lot of experience but he's eager to learn. He tends to become a bit animalistic as he just responds to his body's needs when he sees you naked and playing with yourself. But with time he's able to get to know what he loves.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) - He loves when you're on top. He loves looking up at you and being able to grab your tummy and/or breasts. He's able to guide your hips and play with your nipples but he also loves it when you take the pace and tease him by slowing down.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) - He doesn't tend to have the time to goof around. Once one of you is in the mood he's got his pants down and is raring to go (which unintentionally makes you laugh). But you can both have a giggle at yourselves.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) - He's a beast. He has thick dark hair all over his arms and chest and his pubic hair is no different. He keeps himself nice and clean in the texas heat by taking a cool bath every night but he's pretty simple as just a soap and wash cloth kinda guy. No need for trimming or waxing here.

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) - He can be a little feral at first but he is a really sappy guy. He loves kissing you deeply and watching you sleep afterwards. He'll stroke your hair and hold you close and he'll be super clingy the next day, hugging you from behind and picking you flowers from the garden.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) - He loves to masturbate but he feels a little guilty about it afterwards. You tell him it's completely natural and most people do it, encouraging him if it makes him feel good. You take a few sexy snaps of yourself for him to have fun with when he's by himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) - He's a bit voyeuristic, watching over you in the garden as you bend over to tend to the plants, he can't help but feel his trousers becoming tighter. He also loves fucking you on the kitchen table when everyone else is out, the risk of not knowing when they'll be back. Other than that he doesn't really know much about kinks and is still exploring what he enjoys. Anything that you want to do though, he's eager to try out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) - It used to be that you wouldn't bother bubba in his workshop but one day you couldn't help yourself, you just missed him and wanted to keep him company. It's become a bit of a habit to do it in his workshop now especially when the house is full. There's a bit of risk that they'll hear but not enough that they'll come in. Sometimes when you have to go to town you'll take Bubba in the truck with you and stop off on the side of the road. He won't fully relax, eyes darting convinced someone will see and the risk will make him explode. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) - Honestly he'll watch you with so much love in his eyes from you doing the dishes to tending the garden, he's normally very sappy. But sometimes the breeze will blow your skirt up just right or you'll be reaching up to put groceries away and your t-shirt will ride up. Something small like that can flood him with dirty thoughts of what he wants to do to you which often leads you to being grabbed and kissed by complete surprise. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs) - He would have a lot of trouble hurting you. Even if you explained to him that it felt nice he wouldn't feel comfortable slapping or whipping you so BDSM isn't really something he'd enjoy but he would like tying you up. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) - He doesn't have a preference he loves both! He LOVES eating you out/sucking you dry, he's surprisingly a natural at it. His frantic tongue movements never fail to make your toes curl.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) - He starts off a little manic and fast because he's so excited and as he gets closer to cumming his thrusts become more erratic and sloppy so you can always tell when he's close.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) - Bubba loves quickies! Often that's what you'll have to do as the house is always full of people and you get chastised by Drayton for being dirty.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) - He likes the thrill of perhaps getting caught but it would never be too much of a risk. He couldn't have anyone seeing him from outside the family or without his mask on as that's too stressful for him. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) - Tbh he cums fairly quickly and doesn't have a lot of stamina due to the intense texas heat but after you've both cooled down a little and perhaps even dozed off you'll feel his hard member pressing into your back, eager for another round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) - Any toys are introduced by you (he doesn't exactly have an easy way of getting them) and he's open to playing with them. The first time you used a vibrating cock ring on him he was out of it for a week. One thing he does have easy access to is chains, electrical tape, and ropes so if you express an interest in being tied up he's happy to comply!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) - He didn't have an interest at first and would find it quite infuriating when you would edge and tease him but he soon appreciated how good the end result felt. He wondered if he could pull it off on you and one day when giving you oral you begged and begged if you could cum and that's when he stopped. Hearing your whining and the need in your voice you had for him made him feel powerful and you had a looong night ahead of you that night.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Very loud, lots of incomprehensible gibberish and whimpering. When you're having sex, everyone is gonna know about no matter how hard he tries to keep quiet.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) - He's very good with animals. One of the chickens died and even though he thinks she'll make a nice lamp he can't leave those little chicks alone. You find him keeping them warm and making sure they have food and water. When he goes out into the garden they come running and you often find him out there with all the young chickens in his lap. (If I could draw this OMG I WOULD)

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) - He's a big boy with a chunky soft body. He's covered in dark hair, his arms are big and he's very strong. He's about 4-5 inches and VERY thick, uncircumsised with a bush of curly dark hair.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) - Very high let's be honest. Sometimes it's too hot and you're not in the mood so he'll run into his workshop to take care of himself. A victim once left a polaroid camera and you took a few sexy shots of yourself for him to keep in there.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward) - Very quickly, often with you held close in his arms. 

[small-sinclair]

Flower Kisses

@sup-im-blue…some more Johnny fluff to satisfy you.

You where in the kitchen pealing potatoes when he came into the room. You heard Johnny’s boots click on the wood coming behind you. Before you knew it, he wrapped an arm around you and kisses your neck gently. In the other hand, he held up a small thing of flowers.

“For you, bunny,” he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Figured ya might like ‘em in our room.” You felt his smile press against your skin as he kisses you again. “Like them?”

You turned to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. Whenever you two are alone, he allowed his guard to drop and let himself be, well, human for a while. Before you, he was sharper than a knife and hard around the edges. Now, he melts like wax by your touch and wants nothing more than to fill that emptiness inside him.

“You always know how to make me smile,” you said, playing with the little curls. “I like them, thank you.” Leaning up, you placed a kiss on his scar. “Such a sweet little guy.”

“‘M not a lil’ guy,” he scoffs, but he has a smile on his face. He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, earning a giggle from you. “But I guess ‘ll be your lil’ guy.”

He brushes your hair away and held your cheek. He admires you like an untouched marble block. “My, my, lil’ bunny… you sure look lovely today.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say that everyday, Johnny.”

“And I mean it everyday.” He placed his hand on your cheek. “You’ll always look beautiful.”

You rested against his hand and closed your eyes. He holds you a bit closer as he littered your face with little kisses and praises. When his lips kisses yours, quick and fast, he came back for another, kissing you passionately. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing you again. “‘M the luckiest man alive.”

You picked up a flower held it close to the side of his face. “Sunflowers look good on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I guess that’s why I didn’t see you in the fields when you caught me.”

He shrugs. “Well, you were easy to catch, y/n.” He placed his hands on your hips and came closer to you. He wasn’t firm when his thumbs made circles on your skin. He looked at you as if he was admiring a piece of art. “Best catch ever, actually.”

You placed the flower on the counter and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Am I, Johnny Sawyer?” There was a bit of dried blood in his hair and shirt, but it didn’t mind you. It used to, but not anymore.

He kisses your lips gently then your forehead. “Never lie to ya, darling.”

As much as you wanted to be in his arms longer, the front door opened and Cook shouted, “Johnny! Get out here! Got another round!”

Johnny clinched his jaw and he was about to snap back, but her hand on his chest calmed him. He take your hand and kisses the knuckles. “Be back soon, y/n. Get to the safe room, okay? Don’t want ya hurt.”

You nod and stood on your toes to kiss him then caressed his cheek. “Be careful, Johnny. I mean it.”

“I will—“

“Johnny! Ass out here, now!” Sissy shouted from the door. “Com’on!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m comin’!” He snapped over his shoulder. “I swear, I gotta do everythin’ ‘round here.” He kisses you one last time. “Be home soon. Get ta’hiding.” He steps away from you and started towards the door.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you turned and brought down a vase for the flowers.

[lil-spider]

Learning new things about Johnny while exploring his very messy shack lmao.

[hitchyboi]

🦴Fleeting Bliss🦴

FINISHED VERSION, Again very sorry to those that saw it before I finished it XD Accident

Nubbins let's himself try a favorite pass time of his twin and it doesn't go so well

Content Warning: Drug Use, Self Harm, Descriptions of gore and violence. Unhealthy family dynamics. Unwell mental health. The usual Sawyer Family Fun

Word Count: 4, 433

Dust covered boots trudged themselves up the stairs of an old farm house. Wooden slates creaking under the added weight threatening to snap, once white paint chipped away and yellowed with age. Nubbins cursed and grumbled to himself as he ascended the steps on a path to his room. Once he shouldered the door open he tossed the ratted pillowcase he used as a sack to the ground. Filled with new treasures and finds that once brought excitement now served as a downer that left a bitter taste in his mouth and caused another wave of pain to surge from the yellowing bruise covering his temple, just over his eyebrow.

Words echoed over and over in his head of the recent beating and berating by his older brother. Hog bitch. Dumbass. Rat bastard. A lowly no good waste of space... Another curse and kick that sent his door closed and he made his way towards the rat eaten mattress in his corner of the room. Falling onto the abused material Nubbins finally felt a scolding trail fall from his eye and down his cheek. Inhaling quickly with an attempt to prevent more from following he pulled a ball of matted racoon fur he kept by his pillow close to his chest. Pressing his face into the fur and welcoming the familiar scent of hot tar and decay. It was a recent find on one of his hitchhiking sprees, the coons' corpse was still fresh when Nubbins found it though rigor mortis had already set in. Giving the animal a permanent position of laying on its side as if merely resting for a moment rather then forever. Nubbins could feel his cheeks burning, blood bubbling under his skin and threatening to break it wide open. Eyes burning and throbbing with hot tears he finally relinquished his hold on with none to see. Buying his face further into his furry friend's body, small bones twisting under the tight grip of his lanky fingers. Dry fur tickling his nose and mixing with his scruff serving as his only form of comfort in the silent house.

Why did it matter so much to Drayton if he visited the graveyard? He needed more supplies for some of the bigger projects he planned on crafting. Those beeves don't even need their bones no more! Or their skin! But Nubbins had many uses for them, they'd just rot away or fall apart if he didn't collect them. They'd just be useless... like him...

A yell ripped itself from his throat as the words grew louder in his head. Pulling his legs up towards his chest, trapping the coon even closer, he tried to hide from it all. Hide from the words, the whispers. The disappointment. The beatings. The eyes, the eyes, how he hated the eyes. Always staring and always glaring. Always looking down on him, belittling him like an ant to be squashed. He wanted to turn those eyes into ones of fear, despair. Eyes that were looking at a nightmare, wet and bloodshot from crying. But there were no eyes for him to change, no victim to mock and torture. Just himself.

A snapping sound pulled Nubbins out of his thoughts, looking down he saw the now severed jaw of his furry friend loose in his hand. "No! No.. no no.. why?" He gasped and sat up, desperately trying to piece the jaw back into place. The detached lip falling back to his lap with each try. The burning in his face returned but from rage this time as the critter kept refusing to listen. Why would the critter choose now of all times to leave him as well? Leave him just like Bobby did when Drayton has to drag his wily ass back home after the first test. Leave him like Sissy did when she decided California was more her taste then home. Why couldn't just one person just stay?! The coon husk was thrown to the other side of the room, hitting the rotted wall with a heavy thud before sliding down to the floor. No doubt breaking more brittle bones. Nubbins glared at the darkened spot on the wall as his fingers twitched and danced, arm still held out in front of his body.

Heated brown eyes slowly trailed from the spot to one of the posters hung up close by. The bright colors and complex images serving as a more pleasant distraction then the dead animal he'd just thrown to his brothers side of the room. That's right.... Bobby came back... he came back in the end. And so did Sissy... they didn't leave him forever. Furrowed eyebrows slowly relaxed as he let his arm drop back to his side, observing the different decorations his brother had added to his corner. His bed has became more a nest of pillows and blankets, the wall was lined almost completely with different band posters he had acquired along with the addition of little colorful lights strung up here and there. They weren't overly harsh as most lights were to Nubbins, they were softer almost like the stars sitting up in the sky. His gaze soon landed on the ashtray kept near his bed with a few pre-rolled joints Bobby had excitedly talked about sneaking past Cook earlier that week. Nubbins has seen Bobby and Sissy smoke together quite a few times now, it was one of their favorite pass times. Even before they had left. Mention that it helps them to relax and Nubbins always enjoyed how giggly they tended to get not long after.

Springing off his mattress Nubbins quickly closed in on his target and grabbed one of the joints, head whipping around to check the closed door. Nancy had called with the news some of Johnny's victims were being a handful and needed assistance. Ending a beating short Drayton has brought Sissy, Bobby and Bubba with him. Forcing Nubbins to keep his ass at home or worse was to come. That.... meant Nubbins has some time to himself until they came back... and he really wanted to feel that level of enjoyment and rest he'd seen on his siblings faces. He didn't want to rot in his mattress is pain until morning again... not when he had an option now. Grabbing a sticker covered lighter and plopping his ass back onto the mattress, he lit the blunt.

Lifting it towards his lips, Nubbins inhaled. Smoke invaded his senses and burned his throat, ripping hacks and wheezes from his chest. Nose wriggling at the burning taste as his body doubled over, Bobby and Sissy made it look so easy. A few coughs here and there sure but they barely reacted otherwise. He could already hear Bobby's cackle at his pathetic attempt, through laughs he'd slap his back in an effort to help alleviate the wracks just past his ribs. Boney knuckles rap against his own chest instead as he straightened himself out, ridding himself from the worst of the coughing fit. Tongue running over cracked lips Nubbins looked back down towards the joint, eyes hardening with determination at the insulting object. He was gonna have a moment... a moment to relax and feel as happy as his siblings did.

It took a few more attempts before Nubbins was able to pull a hit without hacking up a lung. Pushing past the assaulting burn in his throat, like ashes coating the inside and relighting with each intake of oxygen. The bitter and earthy taste on his tongue was near retch pulling at first but grew more tolerable and then Nubbins finally felt a lightness. Like a rush of blood towards his head but instead of pooling and causing mind numbing headaches, the rush didn't stop. Didn't pool. Flowing up and past his head leaving him feeling lighter then ever before. Tipping his head back with shaking lips, Nubbins let the smoke flow back out. Watching the blurred lines float up towards the ceiling, swirling and dancing together at the same altitude he felt. Nubbins' head felt like it had been cracked open, skull split letting everything that's been locked inside and crammed together out. Emptied until there was nothing left but himself. Never had his mind felt so open. As the head rush plateaued he laid back fully on his bed, the soft fabric melting underneath his weight and cradling his body. Idly spinning the joint in his fingers a lopsided grin stretched across his cheeks, no wonder Sissy and Bobby enjoyed smoking so much. Nubbins normally would be pissed off at them for leaving him out but at the moment, he didn't care. He couldn't find a reason to care when he could lay here and continue feeling good instead. Eagerly lifting the joint back up to his lips, Nubbins inhaled more as his free hand slipped under his favorite loose shirt. Scratching the skin along his stomach lazily.

The bruising on his face long forgotten as he continued to watch the smoke dance around his room, moving like a waterfall in the wrong direction. Like how blood would pour out of a piggy's neck after he broke the skin with his pocket knife. Instead of painting the ground with a pretty shades, these flowed up towards the ceiling and probably past. Nancy always mentioned a place up in the sky, perhaps that's where they were going? What was that place again? Nancy always seemed to speak highly of it, something she rarely ever does bout anything. When was the last time Nancy said anything nice about them? About here? Sure she always feeds Johnny's damn ego, how 'perfect' and 'wonderful' her darling boy was. She never talks about home like she does about the sky place. Would she rather be up there rather then here? Grandpa wouldn't like that... should Nubbins wanna go there? He really don't wanna... He can't see how there'd be any pigs or beeves to toy with in the sky. No weird magical place in the sky could be as comfortable as his bed right in this moment. His body felt heavy, sinking further into a stained material as if trying to meld with it. The touch on his skin felt so soft and so comforting, Nubbins needed more of it.

Heaving himself back into a sitting position, Nubbins felt his body was lagging behind. Half a second behind his mind as he grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off clumsily. Dropping the fabric to the side and eagerly diving back to the welcoming embrace of his bed. Wrapping his lanky limbs around one of the stray pillows still intact he had, nuzzling his face into the plush material. A pleasant tingle dancing across his skin from his face, down his arms and along his stomach. His skin felt alive and buzzing, not the usual energy that had him moving and bouncing but a kind he enjoyed just laying in. Laughter easily flowed out his mouth. Nubbins absolutely could get used to feeling like this, get addicted to it... who knew one person was able to feel so amazing. And all it took was smoking some weird plant? It pulled even more laughter from the depths of Nubbins' guts.

A burning licking at the tips of his fingers brought Nubbins' attention back to the joint, now barely a stump worth holding onto. When had he finished it? Blowing a raspberry at the brief disappointment he flicked the stub to a forgotten corner of the room. Aiming towards Bobby's side but he couldn't tell if his aim was successful or not. Sluggishly running a hand through his greasy strands his attention was attracted to the warm red glow of his dark room set up in the bathroom. Vision blurred as his body continued to move in slow motion, Nubbins could feel his heart pick up pace before he even was able to recognize what he was looking at.

Then his blood ran cold.

Eyes... the eyes were back. They were back and staring right down at him, blocking the comforting light and shrouding Nubbins in a thick shadow. It's inconsistent figure buzzing and pulsing like static as it stood at the end of his mattress. Its skin like a burlap sack filled with fleas all jumping underneath the surface, eager to get at his blood. Back pitched forward to loam over the young man. No sound escaped from either being. A bead of sweat dripped down Nubbins brow despite the goose pimples lining down his arms. Why was it here? Why now? Usually.... usually the didn't bother Nubbins until he was asleep. Was he asleep? When did he doze off? His head began to spin as his heart started pumping even faster. And yet... neither figure moved. A challenge to see which broke first. Which would cower and writhe under the pressure and everything was stacked against Nubbins. His throat started to tighten as he stared back into the figures gaze. Two white pinpricks being the only form able to fully solidify. He needed to get away... he didn't want to be stared at again. To be mocked and judged. Body now shaking and matching the pace of his heart Nubbins forced his body to move as quickly as he could. Throwing his blanket up at the figure and scrambling off his mattress and towards his dark room. Knees and palms scrapping against old splintered wood as he ducked inside the bathroom. Grasping onto the sides of the sink, the cold porcelain feeling like a shock to his burning skin. Desperately sucking in as much air he could now he was hidden from the figures' gaze. His chest heaving as he struggled to hold himself upright.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be scared... cowering. He was supposed to be happy. Enjoying a moment why... why couldn't those figures just give him one damn moment! Always lurking in the corner of his vision then disappearing when Nubbins brought attention to them. Like a cruel joke, a game to see how far they could push him. Grandma used to say they were spirits or such.. not meant to do harm but yet they consistently followed, stared, mocked. Tormenting him and enjoying the fool he'd make out of himself at their sights. Nubbins lifted his head to look at himself through the cracked mirror above his sink. In that moment Nubbins' blood turned to ice one more. Heart dropping to the pit of his stomach to be eaten away at by acid. His chest started to heave as his lungs tightened. Looking towards himself in the mirror all he could see were the hundreds of faces surrounding him. Their gazes locked on him much like the figure still lurking within his room. Turning to press his back against the sink he whipped his head around in an effort to find solace. Yet every wall was adorned with moving eyes that thrived in his panic. Pictures he had taken for his own pleasure taking a life of their own, to jeer at their creator. He could hear the maniacal laughter as their one still images followed him. Surrounded him.

His heart hammered in his chest, beating against ribs and threatening to broke them at any moment as his lungs desperately tried to work. Dropping to his knees Nubbins grasped at his chest as his bones tightened around the offending organs, caging them more and refusing their functions. Moist fingers clawed at his chest desperately as he felt the room start to spin around him. Too tight. His chest felt far too tight, how was he supposed to breathe? How was his heart supposed to beat? Every attempt to suck in air seemed to make his ribs squeeze harder. They needed room... He could feel bruises starting to form where his heart was fighting against bone. Skin was snagged by grimy nails as Nubbins slammed his head against the floor. Splitting angry red lines down the length of his chest. Yes... it was too tight inside and he needed air. One way or another, Nubbins needed air.

A wet sob played for his audience as Nubbins started to tear at his skin with fervor. Nails scraping away layers of skin, only growing more vicious once blood beaded to the surface. It wasn't enough. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. It wasn't enough. With a down right feral snarl Nubbins tug his nails into his chest. Breaking past the skin the aiming deeper, pulling and tearing away at what he could. The sound of flesh tearing was dull to his ears, the blood that pooled onto the ground and seeped into his pants a mere afterthought. If a thought at all. He yelled. He yelled and cried until his throat ran raw, threatening to start bleeding and drown him. His body rocked with heaves as drool and bile fell from his lips adding to the stain pool beneath him. A muffled screech came from the confines of his room, the obstructed vowels vaguely resembling his name. The figure... it had to be the figure calling for him, trying to lure him back out. Panic flooded his veins at the implication, screwing his wet eyes shut with a cry. The tightness hasn't gotten any better, he couldn't dig his claws deep enough. He couldn't pull back enough meat to free his heart and lungs. Still they sat confined and strangled behind uneven bone. His arms burned with exhaustion as his body trembled like a possum soaked in the rain. A lightness pulled at Nubbins' head, lifting the pressure in his spine as his body collapsed. Darkness danced along the edges of his sight as he gazed out the doorway back into his room. The murmuring yelling was still droning in the back of his mind.

"Chop..." Nubbins weakly called as a new wave a tears coated his cheeks. The word breaking and barely audible from overworked cords. Vision blurring as familiar sneakers reached the doorframe.

~~

An irritated grunt was followed by the slam of the old wooden door as Chop returned home. Usually the young man enjoyed being drenched in the blood of an innocent victim, delightfully playing with them as they screamed and writhed under his hammer but today the bloodshed barely pulled forth more then a half energetic grin and occasional chuckle. The wellbeing of his twin was all he could focus on. Damn Cook didn't give him a moment to even check on him before dragging his ass to the truck. Chop made his displeasure very evident in hopes it would get him kicked to the curb. Luck just wasn't on the hippie's side this day as the rest of his siblings sat through his incessant complaints. When they made it to Nancy's he didn't waste time in wrapping the problem pigs up as quickly as he could. Nancy was pleasantly impressed with him yet he couldn't care less at the moment for his aunt's rare approval. He started walking. Down that dirt road back towards home with Drayton yelling at his heels for not helping with clean up.

Chop had only made it three steps into the house before he froze with his eyebrows jumping in concern. The house was quiet. A quiet house and Nubbins never coincided. Nubbins was just as loud and energetic as he was, being quiet never was a strong suit of theirs.

"N-Nubbins? Where... Where's ya at?" Chop called into the eerily still home. There was no reply, no response and that worried him more. Nubbins would avoid Drayton, avoid Nancy and sometimes Johnny if he was upset with him but Chop? Bobby? Nubbins never avoided him. Grabbing onto the railing Chop pulled himself up the stairs towards the second floor, knocking against the wall occasionally to announce his presence some more. Perhaps Nubbins was just invested in something and didn't hear him? Like one of his projects. He could faintly make out the sounds of movement coming from their shared bedroom, releasing some of the worry in his shoulders.

"Nubbins! What're ya so quiet for? House was to-to... well it was to yerself. I'da be... I'da be blasting some Iron Butterfly by now! Or.. or some Humble Pie! You know those guys... heh, well they're always good." Chop laughs as he shoulders their bedroom door open. His gummy grin slowly fell as he was met with the sight of an empty bedroom. The usual disheveled mess it's been with no twin in sight. A pungent order hung in the air, the sour skunk like scent mixed with smoke very familiar to the hippie. Blue eyes quickly clocking the roach that laid left on the ground between their mattresses.

"H-hey... hey Nubbins!" Chop called once more, the worry and concern remaking their home in his chest as he walked further into the room. Just barely catching a weak croak coming from the black room. Making a beeline towards the lone sign of life he crossed the threshold. Nubbins laid face down, barely conscious on the wooden slates, his face red and splotchy from obvious signs of crying. Making the birthmark painting the right side of his face almost unnoticeable. Blood and pile stained the ground around him with an arm outstretched towards the doorframe.

Cursing, Chop quickly dropped down to kneel next to him. Hooking his arms under Nubbins' and lifting his limp body up. A multitude of cuts littered the surface of his chest. Blood smeared across his flesh making it difficult to see how deep they went. Guilt starting to chew its way up as Chop propped his brother's body against the tub as gently as he could.

"N-now now, it'll ah... It'll be fine! Ol' Chop's gotcha now. Grandma 'n Grandpa shoulda- shoulda have something!" He gave a pat to his brothers shoulder, noticeably shakier than usual, before sprinting towards the neighboring bathroom. Ripping open the mirrored cabinet to rummage through the collection of poorly kept first aid. Chop winced slightly hearing the glass mirror slam into the wall, Grandpa surely woulda tan his hide if he were close by, that was a problem for later however. Grabbing the desired items Chop ran back to his brothers side and began dressing his wounds. If there was one thing Chop ever would be grateful about getting drafted... learning on the fly first aid came in handy. Some poking and prodding at the blood slick skin thankfully revealed the cuts weren't that bad. For Nubbins at least, little fucker's had plenty worse. Chop didn't even need to use the glue this time.

"Ya know! Heh, Johnny's in a.. in a lotta trouble now!" Chop laughed as he wrapped old bandages around Nubbins' chest, gauze placed firmly against the cuts as he glanced towards his brothers face. Eyelids drooped low but not fully closed as his gaze held a distant glaze. A nervous tongue swipe against his own lips Chop looked back to his task. "Nancy wasn't all happy with the girls he brought back this time. They was.. they was real squirmy too! You woulda had fun chasin' them! Couse she was being a.... a real bitch to us all night too! She- She tried snatching o' Sonny Bono here- Ha!" A small sound. So soft and quickly Chop almost missed it with his own presence but he saw the quick jump of his brother's chest. A small chuckle. Sure enough, distant eyes seemed as far this time as lips twitched to pull a weak grin.

"... Y-you look like an egg without him...."

A blink. And then another.

"I aint no egghead! Just cause.. Just cause I don't got my do no more! Oh! You hush up, r-ratface!" An unserious smack to the brunette's head followed before Chop hooked an arm under Nubbins' shoulder once more. Lifting his brother back to his feet and helping him out of the darkroom. Helping was an understatement. Chop practically dragged him back out as Nubbins' steps were still shaky and uneven. Leaning a majority of his body weight onto Chop which, admittedly, wasn't much. An occasional wince followed closely by a giggle escaped the younger twin as Chop helped him lay back down on his old mattress.

"Is Drayton still mad at me?" Nubbins' voice was a whisper, throat still raw. Chop ran a hand through his wig with a heavy breath, when wasn't Cook mad? Seemed like just breathing these days would set the old man off on any of their asses. Chop would say he was even worse than before he left, just when had he taken that turn? How long did Bubba and Nubbins have to deal with him before Chop came back? Grabbing the forgotten blanket off of the floor and chucking it back over onto Nubbins' curled up form he waved his hand dismissively.

"Probably more mad at a- at a me now." He couldn't quite tell how Nubbins felt with that reaction. Tired eyes stared off with a small hum in the back of his throat. No doubt exhausted from the episode he went through on his own.

"Y-ya know! Walking all the way back here gave me ah... a new idea! For a song! Thinking about calling it Wasteland! Cause like... cause there's no one on these roads, like a wasteland!" Chop grinned widely as he started talking about his newest idea. Turning back towards his side of the room and starting to arrange some things outside of Nubbins' vision. A small tired smile returned to Nubbins face as he listened as best he could, he really was trying but he couldn't deny how sluggish his body felt. How difficult generating enough energy to even blink, a sensation that always unnerved the always buzzing man but with Chops' eccentric ideas as a calming constant in the background. Nubbins felt more at ease.

"And then something like- Like ah... God! Where is god, where is god, where is- and it goes like that a few more times. Something like 8 or 9 times, yeah! Where is god, where is god, where is-" A snore breaking through and interrupting Chops' words redirected his attention towards Nubbins who now laid asleep. Finally at rest for the night. Walking over to his side Chop leaned over and softly placed the abandoned racoon carcass back in Nubbins' arms. Jaw now securely reattached with some safety pins and spare beads.

"I'll tell ya the rest in the morning."

Now... to find a hiding place for the rest of his joints.

(Credit goes to @cemetery-sunset for the headcanon of Nubbins collecting and using animal/human corpses as stuffed animals basically.

Also I pretty heavily referenced my own experiences with sleep paralysis hallucinations for Nubbins' episode. I may have needed to project just a lil bit)

[charleslee-valentine]

Save Some Christmas Cheer

warnings: physical and emotional abuse, hitting, cruelty, drayton sawyer as a warning, one very mild sex joke.

~~~~~~~

Every December, Drayton drives a dinky evergreen out to the gas station and ties it to the sign post, lets the twins come down and fancy it up with some thrifted ornaments and tinsel. Gotta make the place lively.

Thought that would appease their appetite for the festivity afterall. They wasn’t raised with it, not even he had experienced it when they still had Grandpa’s income to throw a holiday off of, so he never figured the boys would be all that interested. Their grandparents thought it best to raise ‘em without that kind of luxury, too much of makin’ spoilt ‘n greedy kids all over. But, them younger brothers of his been growin’ up in the age of radio and now seein’ the rise of television. No hidin’ the spirit from them now.

It’s Nubbins, crouched by the annual gas station tree as he digs through what little they got to adorn it with, evidently disappointed by it, that asks him first, “W-Why can’t we does Chrim-sis a-at home?”

“Used to. Can’t afford it.” Is the simplified brunt Drayton gives him. He’s busy puffin’ on a cigarette and attemptin’ to contain the mess his brothers is makin’ ‘fore it might affect the station’s appearance.

That ain’t satisfactory. Them boys is curious as cats, but with even less sense. Nubbins tilts his head sideways, “How come?”

Drayton flicks the cigarette butt at him and watches it bounce off of Nubbins bony back, leavin’ little glowin’ ashes in its wake. It’s himself who brushes it off ‘fore those can leave burn puckers on the boy’s good jacket, despite the paint and mud on it. But that quick act of caution turns to a whack on the back of his head and a scold quickly, “‘Cause you lot are expensive enough without gettin’ presents or some big fancy meal!!”

“But y-you does it here.” Bobby chimes in for his silenced twin from the other side of the tree. Ornery bastards finishin’ each other’s complaints even.

Drayton straightens himself out when a car drives past, in the case it’d stop, but it whips right past so he marches over to Bobby, “Can’t have my customers thinkin’ I ain’t an honest Christian business man!”

‘Course, Bobby ain’t as punched down as his brothers, or just ain’t well behaved. He snorts at Drayton’s remark, “You ain’t one.”

“I am!” Drayton draws his hand back to swing at Bobby’s face, but Nubbins interrupts with a shout.

“Since when! Y-You doesn’t go to church!”

Now he’s caught in between them and just frozen up with balled fists. Can’t beat ‘em both at once, so he concedes, somewhat, “Don’t need to. The Lord and I handle our business privately.”

Bobby cackles a laugh at somethin’ that ain’t immediately clear, ‘til he shares the joke that lived in his flighty head, “‘Way you said that m-makes it sound like you and J-Jesus is been bumpin’ nasties!”

A year in the service was plenty enough to break down the values Drayton instilled in his kid brothers, exposin’ horrible nerves he hoped would never have to be plucked with ‘em. They was all to be kept in the dark of certain ways, but then them military boys taught Robert all the sins in the book, and he just had to come home and share the news. Lucky they don’t got a clue what the hell he's talkin’ when he starts up, but as Drayton would like to keep it that way, despite the hiccups, that’s one matter that ain’t never go unpunished.

Bobby gets a sharp whack across his face, and another to his back when he hunches over, “Watch your mouth around your brother, damn it!!”

“Owww!” He whines all overplayed and obnoxious. Givin’ Drayton a damned headache already. So he gets a kick to his calf and falls to that knee.

“Then behave yourself!” Drayton warns, looming over, “Actin’ like none of you ever grew up! If there were such a thing as Christmas in this family, you boys wouldn’t deserve a damn thing!”

Nubbins scrunches his face, confusion and judgement and frustration tied together, “Why would we b-be good if we ain’t go-gonna get presents a-anyway?”

Bobby, rubbin’ the hand mark that’s making its way to his pale cheek, slowly rising to his feet again, agrees, always agrees with Nubbins, “Yeah! I-I-If you was ever nice to us, we'd be- be good!”

That one sentence sits heavy in Drayton’s bones all day and night. For the next week it just plays over and over in his head, thinkin’ ‘bout how he’d failed them kids. Christmas be damned, all year round, for the last forty some years they been here, he ain’t never been kind. Their mama was his lousy mama and their papa walked out. He had to be the parent all along.

To his knowledge, it wasn’t natural to be soft on ‘em. Gotta raise ‘em with a firm hand and all. And Bobby’s right he ain’t no church goin’ man, but he knows you ain’t s’posed to spare the rod. Nobody ever spared him none, pickin’ switches out the bushes and takin’ his beatins.

So then, why’s guilt stickin’ to him so bad just cause the boys said they act out ‘cause of his choices. Why’s he know it’s right, that they ain’t been showed enough mercy and kindness to practice it.

They cut into another corpse at supper, and he knows this is all his fault, and suddenly the meat tastes a lot less like pork, and a lot more like an elderly couple or a mother down the road. Lord, he’s damned them all to Hell. No guardin’ them from sin could change that, ‘cause they was born to it, raised with blood under their nails before they even knew what love was. Somethin’ they prob’ly still don’t know.

He’s gone quiet again, though he tries to focus on workin’ ‘stead of thinkin’, peelin’ potatoes to go with roast school teacher out in the kitchen, when he gets ambushed. Confronted again by the reality he caused.

“Hey! H-Hey cook, what’chya cook?” It’s an innocent question from Bobby, but Drayton’s so deep in his own remorse he can’t gather an intelligible response.

With Drayton being so tense lately, the boys have caught on. Nubbins catches up to his twin and immediately scolds him for bein’ a bother, “Bobby, ya stupid, d-don’t call ‘im cook no more!”

“Oh yeh. F-Forgot he won’t feed us n-no more ‘til we p-‘preciate ‘im.” Bobby repeats Drayton’s reasoning for the last beating they got, with monotone sarcasm, and a whispered comment tacked on the end, rolls his eyes and pouts, “Stupid rule if ya ask me.”

“N-Nobody did asked you!!” Nubbins counters, the hunch of his shoulders anxious but the crone of his voice angry. All on edge.

They make to start a slapping fight, drawing back and all, Bobby yelling after a second to stew on his answer, “Shut up!”

All the ruckus is more than familiar in this house, but when the boys accidentally smash into the kitchen door, banging the brass knob into the plaster, it causes Drayton to startle. The knife in his hand slips across his fingertips and suddenly he’s bleedin’ all over the potatoes m.

“That’s enough!” He shouts his throat raw on just the one command, both twins whipping their heads around to stare with wide eyes. With their attention, he gives them another order. A heavy sigh out of his nose and he’s able to speak a little more clearly to bark the next order, “Go set the damn table.”

Both boys are trippin’ over each other to get the dishes and glasses for supper, before splittin’ up to do different tasks. Drayton meanwhile has to either salvage what’s left of the non-bloody potatoes or forget about it entirely. Guess it wouldn’t be such a big deal to feed ‘em contaminated food, but lord only knows what’s in his blood after all these years. Might end up givin’ the boys a nicotine addiction like himself.

He scraps it all instead. Trashes good food. If he weren’t so out of his mind with regret he’d be beatin’ them twins within an inch of their lives. Lord knows they deserve it.

And yet, he sits down to half a supper and murmurs in good spirits, “Been thinkin’.”

The twins, Nubbins next to him and Bobby at the end of the table, exchange a look. Nubbins snickers, “Th-That ain’t n-never good.”

Drayton does his best not to boil over with anger already, glaring with disappointment at them, “Guess you don’t wanna hear the good news then?”

“You lyin’. You don’t never got g-good news.” Bobby snarks, givin’ another heavy eye roll.

“Since y’all was askin’ up on Christmas I just thought- but oh, no.. no. You’re right, this cain’t possibly be good news.” Giving a dramatic sigh, Drayton plays the manipulation game to get them on their best behavior, in part so his frustration can cool off.

“What?” Nubbins probes, but Drayton stays firm and just shakes his head. So he presses again, fiddling with his hands, “W-What? Tell us!”

Both twins start chanting asking to be told, rallying their little brother into their obnoxious repetition,

“Bubba you tell ‘im too!”

Now Bubba is squealing like a downright hog, too much noise at the supper table that ain’t caused by some wailing stranger. Drayton covers his ears.

“I’ll change my mind!” That threat makes them all go quiet, so dead set on hearing the good news they aren’t willing to risk the chance. Drayton sighs and shrinks down, “Figured there wouldn’t be no hurt in ‘llowin’ y’all to make pretend like it’s Christmas. Don’t think y’all gonna get nothin’ special now, but I ain’t past lettin’ y’all put up a tree or two in the fields.”

“And l-let us watch a Christmas movie?” Bobby demands.

Drayton is skeptical, narrowing his eyes, “How the hell you gonna do that when we ain’t got a television? You fixin’ to pay for it?”

Bobby shakes his head, long wig hairs flying side to side over his face, “Nah. B-But I still knows how to drive. I-I can take us to a real theater.”

That sounds like his own worst nightmare. Drayton scolds the thought, slamming a hand down, “Hell no! I ain’t lettin’ you run off in charge of your brothers!”

That seems to have been counted on, actually, ‘cause Bobby elbows Nubbins next to him enthusiastically, and smiles all wide, “Then y-you gotta take us. And we get to- to bake stuff and wear funny outfits.”

“How the hell you know so much ‘bout this holiday anyhow?” Drayton narrows his eyes at his brother, don’t see why he’s demandin’ so much.

“Uh, I listen to the radio. D-Duh!” Bobby’s tone implies all kinds of things he ain’t ‘llowed to think, mostly that he finds his older brother dumb and annoying.

He does get punished for that outburst. Might’ve got off easy for the mess in the kitchen, but Drayton won’t ‘llow that kind of back talk ‘round the house. Gave up enough control to let them have a holiday at all, can’t just abandon all order ‘n let the boys behave however they’d like. Would be livin’ in ruin.

And it’s a damn good thing, ‘cause then they’re all three on their best behavior ‘til the 25th, goin’ through Bobby’s informed checklists about how to go along with the big day. Ain’t acted out majorly once.

Only he don’t know that’s ‘cause they’re savin’ up for one big mess up.

In the upstairs hallway, hunched together by the window that starts the nook where Drayton’s room hides, the twins conspire on Christmas morning.

“Who’s gonna do it?” Bobby whispers it, catching up on the plan they made, but maybe just a little nervous.

Nubbins looks at his brother like he said somethin’ in gibberish, “Ain’t you?”

Dragging his brother by the sleeve of his shirt down away from Drayton’s room, Bobby raises his voice, “Hell no, man! H-He gonna kick my ass if I do it!”

“I don’t want b-beat up neither!” Nubbins squeaks back in equal defense.

“You won’t, h-he ain’t mad a-at you yet!” Bobby counters, but his tone ain’t so sure. Can’t hide a thing from his twin.

For all the fighting they do, lookin’ out for each other is the half of it. Pushin’ when the other don’t think it’s a good idea, back ‘n forth ‘til they come up with somethin’ better. Their plan usually ends up shoulderin’ the blame onto someone else.

It’s Nubbins that puts it into motion, “Bubba could- he could do it.”

Bobby thinks hard on it, passing his tongue over his teeth a few times in thought, “That- That’s good. Yeh, cook don’t get m-mad at Bubba so much ‘less he’s really bad.”

His brother agreein’ to his plan makes Nubbins smile big, but it falls fast when a thought occurs to him, “Is wakin’ big brother up counts as r-really bad?”

“We gonna find out!” Bobby slaps his twins’ shoulder excitedly, bolting down to the half-way point on the nearest set of steps and calling down, more than adjusted by now to the amount of noise he can get away with makin’, “Hey, Leatherface! G-Get up here!”

They hear him comin’ ‘fore they see ‘im, bumbling steps creaking each floorboard and stair. Bubba tries to walk on his toes to be quiet, but he’s so big and the house so old there ain’t much hope. Lucky their big brother can sleep through at least some volume.

Nubbins coaxes him up closer, so they can talk quiet, “Bubba, hey, y-you like Chrim-sis too, right?”

‘Course Bubba gets a crooked smile and shakes his head up and down. Been excited as hell every night since big brother announced they was allowed, the only one that ain’t participated in fancyin’ up the gas station for Christmas. Can’t really bring him ‘round there with his masks and all.

They take advantage of that excitement to get him to go along with their scheme, Bobby coaxing, “Right. S-So you wants to give big brother th-the presents we made ‘im?”

Bubba nods again, but it’s less excited. No matter what the twins think, he knows they’re putting him up to somethin’. It’s just a matter of what they’re gonna make him do. But he still doesn’t make a peep when the twins walk him down the hall, though the closer they get to Drayton’s shut door, the fidgetier he gets with his hands.

Right outside, Nubbins yanks the door open and Bobby gives Bubba a hearty shove and an order, “Then get on in there!”

They weren’t strong enough to move their baby brother an inch further into that room with a push, but their persuasion and the Christmas spirit alone could do the task.

Ain’t sure exactly how Bubba chooses to do it, but the twins hear all hell start to break loose and take off running. That’s a part of their plan too. Didn’t figure the old man would wake up too peacefully, so they’s gonna let Bubba lead chase for their little Christmas morning surprise.

Admittedly, they do feel kinda bad ‘bout the few whacks they hear impacting their baby brother on the way, but that’s how it goes. At least Bubba’s size means he’s a hell of a lot faster’n Drayton in stride, makin’ it to the back sittin’ room where they got permission to put the tree up and hidin’ behind the twins long before their red-faced, heavin’ big brother makes it ‘round the corner.

Seeing them all three huddled together, Drayton knows they’re up to something, skidding to a sudden stop, “What the hell is all this now?”

“It’s y-your merry Chrim-sis!” Nubbins informs him while his brothers produce their gift and hand it over.

Drayton turns the gift over and over in his hands but doesn’t say a word. Starts gettin’ the boys a little nervous.

Bobby prompts, sorta anxious and mostly bubbling with excitement, “Ya like it?”

Looking up from the gift like he’s just remembered there’s somebody who give it to him, Drayton’s face shifts from surprise to frustration. “Well let’s see now. It’s a uh… You boys gonna hafta give me a hint here-“

Bobby snatches their gift out of Drayton’s hands so he can hold it out the right way and show Drayton. He explains, “It’s a new suit jacket!! B-Bubba sewded it, ‘an Nubbins got its fabric ‘and buttons and s-stuffs, ‘a-‘an I picked the pattern!”

Understanding, Drayton snatches it back and holds it out for himself, considering the homemade garment plenty before he decides to slip it on. It’s bulky and stiff and one sleeve is a little longer than the other, but once he wears it a few times, it’ll get better. Though he does have one concern, “This made of someone?”

“O-On the inside yeh, b-b-but the outside is a-all sheepy yarn so.. s-so nobody gonna know!” Nubbins explains with all the excitement in the world.

Can’t take the suspense anymore, Bobby asks him again, more loudly, “You-You like it?”

“S’pose I do.” Drayton answers this time, a look of pride in his face as he smoothes the buttons on his new jacket down, “You boys done good.”

Both twins bounce up on the balls of their feet and spin in celebratory circles. One of ‘em or maybe both is gigglin’ their head off, the noise inspiring Bubba to do some excited whining too. They all three clasp hands for a second, confirming their idea was a good one and they did a good job.

It’s Nubbins that pulls away from the celebration because he remembers, “We ain’t in t-trouble for wakin’ you up?”

Drayton gives a sigh, and knows better. Can’t crush their spirits already, on their very first holiday. He lets them off the hook with a false warning, barely any bite to his words, “Not this time- But just this once, now. Y’all know better’n that.”

Maybe it’s old age changin’ him, or maybe the revelation that the boys have so much interest outside of the home these days, in a world so different from the technology void he grew up in. Now they’re full grown and it ain’t the same keepin’ them on a short leash, cain't barely get them to listen. Got him extra quick to beat any kind of acting out clean out of ‘em, knowin’ he can’t handle their rebellion if it grew, but that’s the issue, ain’t it. Outright said themselves that they was actin’ so bad ‘cause he’s been extra cruel to them. Things is gonna change.

Drayton wears the present they made him and lets them have their merry Christmas. Would be a shame to punish ‘em when they already ran to open presents they made or found for one another now, wrapped in tidy little animal hides under the tree. It feels disturbingly normal, to sit on a bone sofa and watch them unveil a skull bone with a watch face stuck in the eye, or a new leather mask painted to resemble an iconic prefered blonde.

There’s no changin’ their ways or the damage of violence he sowed over the last few decades in them, but maybe he can give up a little bit of control to let ‘em have their fun. Just enough. Won’t live in no lawless household, but a happy one wouldn’t be so bad.

[flaggermuser]

In Sickness

418 Words || Sickness/illness, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Not Beta Read ||

I've been sick with a virus the last couple of days so I fancied writing Tommy Hewitt taking care of his tiny reader wife. For context: reader is 5ft 1in/155cm.

A ice cold wet flannel rests on your forehead, trying to bring down your fever of 110, while you lie almost confined to your bed.

"She'll just sweat the fever out," Luda May says. "She'll be okay."

But the silent giant you call your husband remains at your side in a chair to small for him, barely leaving for bathroom breaks. You don't even know if he's eaten anything and any suggestion you make is immediately shot down with a glare or a noise of disagreement.

Tommy ain't leaving you alone, not when you sound like you're coughing up a lung.

You're not doing anything yourself.

When Luda May comes upstairs with a bowl of soup, Tommy is helping you sit up, arranging the pillows to support you. He then spoon feeds you, making sure you eat every last drop.

Mama's soup will fix you right up.

But no sooner have you swallowed it down, it's coming straight back up and all over the bed, making you cough even more, to the point of tears.

Tommy is getting frustrated, but not at you. He's getting frustrated that nothing seems to be making you feel better.

Even when you're submerged in ice, your hands are still clammy and strands of your hair stick to your sweaty face. He just wants you well again, he misses cuddling you in bed, misses those kisses you give him before he goes to 'work'.

"She can't kiss you Tommy," Luda May says. "You'll get sick too."

"I'll be okay," you rasp, choking on what feels like razor blades in your throat. "You go and have something to eat. You can't skip meals like this."

Taking your hand, he presses his thumb down on the gold band adorning your ring finger. It's his way of saying that he's not going to leave you. You're his wife and he takes 'in sickness and in health' very seriously.

Eventually the fever breaks and you're starting to feel better, although your throat is still sore. However, as far as Tommy is concerned, you're well again. He's never been happier, he has his tiny wife back.

For the next few days, he showers you with more affection than usual, not that his normal amount of affection isn't already considerably high. You can barely do anything with a kiss or a cuddle, accompanied by that approving rumble that you love so much.

And Tommy is going to do everything in his power to make sure you're never sick again.

[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!!!

[texas-chainsaw-fanworks]

Upcoming Event for the TCM fandom!

After the success of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks event back in December, this blog has been relaunched for a new upcoming event!

For one week in July, there will be a corresponding series of prompts and themes relating to disability and disabled characters in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1, 2, and the game. However, as long as disability is the primary focus of the piece, there is no requirement that these prompts must be followed.

By piece, this means that all kinds of fan content are accepted. Fics, art, writing, playlists, covers, edits, moodboards, and so on. Anything you can dream of. I simply ask that no AI generation is used in the process of the creation.

Then, when it’s time to post, participants just use the event hastags! #tcmfanevent AND #tcmdisabilityweek

Additionally, dark and disturbing content will be allowed due to the nature of canon, but with limitations. My harsh limitation is that no proship pairings be featured. This means absolutely no family x family or adult x minor ships. In the case of past trauma or references to unwanted events like these, I ask that the piece be tagged and adorned with warnings accordingly.

If a participant has any questions on limitations or otherwise, this blog is open for messaging and inbox submissions, as well as the moderators own blog @charleslee-valentine. I will answer from any of those places if questions arise.

Finally, I want to clarify that this event is neutral on disability. I am disabled myself and find joy in my life in different ways because of it. Please do not use this event as an opportunity to bash a disabled identity. This is a celebration of the canonically disabled characters in universe first and foremost, like Bubba, the Sawyer twins, and Franklin. Personal frustration, ableism, and difficulty are obviously allowed, and the content doesn’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows, as long as the line into intense and unresolved self-hatred isn’t crossed.

Again, if this leads to any questions, please just let me know.

Onto Prompts! The image below has a least for ease of saving, and there is also a text version down below.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Event Prompt List

Day 1- Alternate Communication

• Bubba Sawyer is nonverbal. What other ways might they speak with their family?

Day 2- Weird Lookin’

• Nubbins Sawyer stims and plays freely, but faces ableism. Feature his relationship to disability in this piece.

Day 3- ‘Nam Flashback

• Chop Top Sawyer has PTSD and head trauma. Explore his experience with disability.

Day 4- Gonna Be A Fun Trip

• Franklin Hardesty is a paraplegic wheelchair user. Highlight mobility aids for him.

Day 5- Victims

• Stretch, Sally, Franklin; How might TCM victims be disabled after their time with the Sawyers? Remember the Sawyers themselves may also be victims in the right context.

Day 6- Underestimated

• Times when a disabled character wasn’t taken seriously.

Day 7- Headcanon Disability

• Your favorite headcanon/interpretation for TCM character disabilities.

_____

The reason this event is limited to TCM 1 (1974) and TCM part 2 (1986) and the 2023 game is for ease of moderation, since these are the only TCM media I, the event runner, am familiar with.

With that said, I hope you’re all as excited as I am for this event during disability pride month! See you July 1st-7th!! No sign-ups required! Just create and post if you’re interested!!

[cemetery-sunset]

Alternate versions of the Sawyer family polaroid (ft. my self insert)

i originally drew this one before Hands was even teased, so ofc i had to add him in later!... and ofc my self insert is just purely self indulgent cause these idiots feel like family to me <3

drawn by me ofc!!

[chiffon-and-spice]

Close Encounters (Leland McKinney x Fem!Reader)

Leland McKinney x Fem!Reader 18+ Minors DNI 

A/N- Filling the giant Leland sized hole in the fanfic internet with massive amounts of smut and fluff. Lots of plot conveniences, because let's be real I just want to write protective Leland fucking the shit out of someone. I will eventually write Leland x Male!Reader too, because that's what we deserve. 

-------------------------------------------

Concept- You and Leland have been best friends for years, always subtly hoping for a little more but both of you are too scared to make the first move out of fear of the other not feeling the same. Leland can bowl into a family member that's about to murder him no problem, however when it comes to confessing his feelings he fears rejection more than he does his own life. 

Content- NSFW 18+, Reader is a little taller than Leland, Dom!Leland x Sub!Reader, Oral, Praise, Leland is a pleasure dom

--------------------------------------------

The noise floods your ears, before you're even fully awake, making your blood run cold. The loud rev of a chainsaw, though it's slightly disoriented, perhaps from the blood loss. You blink a few times, your mind foggy, trying to recall just where you were. 

It's only when you feel the sting of the rope tightly woven around your hands and that smell... you almost throw up... that you remember what had happened. Where you are. It takes everything in you not to let out a scared whine, as you shift slightly on the hook. The noise is loud and echoes through the room, making your heart race. 

Your eyes adjust to the darkness, only to instantly wish you could forget, spotting the various body parts and buckets of blood surrounding the room. You can't help but let out a quiet groan, trying to slip off your restraints. You needed to get out.

The sound of footsteps caused your movements to be more frantic as you squirmed, silently begging for the rope to tear quicker. What had it been made out of fucking iron? 

The noise grew louder, the rope burning into your skin the more you resisted. Everything felt like too much and had it not been for the adrenaline coursing through your veins you'd probably have passed out again a long time ago.

Your heart stops however, when you see the careful wiggle of the doorknob, silently whispering for it to stop to no one in particular. As if the ominous presence outside the door would adhere to your requests and you'd be completely fine. You feel the slight trickle down your cheeks, cursing yourself for crying in a moment like this. You couldn't panic, not right now. You had to get out of here.

It takes everything in you not to start sobbing when the door slowly opens, however you're thankful you didn't when you spot a familiar mess of brunette hair. Your heart stops, relieved to see he's okay.

"Leland?" You whisper anxiously. 

He glances up, eyes widening, as he races towards you, using what looks like a sharp bone to tear through the rope. The sight makes your stomach churn, however you're too focused on getting out to really ask questions about how or where Leland might have gotten such a thing. Not that you really needed to ask. 

Once free he gently grabs your shoulders, doing a once over. 

"Are you okay?" Leland's voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and he looks worse than you. 

You nod slowly, unsure what you could possibly say. A part of you was too stunned to speak, as you noticed the blood patterns on his shirt and the tear of his clothes just above the waist. The wound looks a little old, blood now dark and a little crusted, but it also didn't look healthy. 

Before you can ask him anything else, he gently grabs your hand, guiding you out the door you had come. 

"I'm going to get you out of here... I promise," he assured quietly, gritting his teeth. Leland moved with careful calculation, darting down dark tunnels and through tiny little slits in the wall. The sound of the chainsaw sounded a little closer, the more you limped. Part of you wanted to ask about the others. 

Had he even seen them? 

Leland opened a tiny blue box, glancing around, before quietly sorting through the pile of scraps. You were a little confused in his movements, eyes darting around carefully. You felt so exposed standing under the dim light of the room. You're surprised when Leland lets out a sigh of relief grabbing a tiny looking sharp object. It almost reminds you of an ice pick.

His hand is quick to find yours again, guiding you carefully through the corridors. Leland glances over his shoulder ever so often, as if he's terrified you're going to disappear from his grasp any moment. 

Leland then stops in front of a door, and you're a little surprised at how effortlessly he slides the tool in, fiddling with the lock. You didn't even know Leland knew how to pick a lock. 

Your heart continued to hammer in your chest, as the chainsaw revved up again, sounding way too close for comfort. Leland's shoulders tighten, and he starts moving a little quicker on the door in response to the noise, a look of determination crossing his face.

You were shaking so bad, trying to block out everything about the dank cellar. The smell. The heat. It all made your stomach churn. 

Leland quickly slides the door open, glancing around anxiously before grabbing your hand once again. A familiar pattern now. He looked up the stairs, before pulling you through the blue door as well, crouching and taking slow quiet steps. 

You stared at each other, an almost unspoken conversation occuring. The dark circles under his eyes and the redness revealed that he had probably been crying for a while. Leland also had a small cut on his lip which you hadn't noticed before in the dim lighting below. It was hard to resist reaching out and affectionately touching it. 

Both of you were terrified, though Leland did a better job at hiding it. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, before turning his attention back to the stairs. You both listened intently, the sound of thudding footsteps rushing by overhead then a voice, a male's.

"Before you go running off with those back house hippies again, can you PLEASE find these damned kids!" 

Leland seemed to cling to the shadows, shielding you with his body, as he eyed the stairs carefully. After a few moments the footsteps faded, and he carefully made his way forward again, creeping around the house. It was fairly dark, which made it hard to step around. 

Having Leland as your guide made you feel a little more comfortable, stepping everywhere you saw his feet go, constantly looking over your shoulder. You half expected something to pull you from his grasp, the idea sending a chill down your spine. Part of you wanted this to be some fucked up dream, silently begging to just wake up.

The more you walked through the house, the more on edge you got. You tried not to focus too long on anything in the house that wasn't a window or potential exit, growing nauseous when your eyes landed on a bucket of blood for too long. 

It wasn't long before Leland slipped out of a swinging screen door, quietly opening it and guiding you further. After glancing around and seeing you two were alone, he stood up, pulling you towards a thick patch of bushes. His grip was gentle but firm, as he pushed down on your shoulders a little, instructing you to crouch. 

You could hardly think or act, so he did it for you. Leland spoke again, his voice barely audible. 

"You stay right here, keep quiet, and if anyone approaches you, stab them with this," Leland started, handing you the bone scrap he had before. His eyes studied your face intently, before letting out a quiet sigh. 

"I will be right back, I promise, I just have to get this gate open. I think I saw a pressure valve back there. If they find you, run, don't look back. Don't worry about me. You just focus on getting out of here." 

You were reluctant at first, not wanting to part with the man, as you let out a quiet sigh of your own. Your heart was racing and you felt like crying all over again, shaking your head. 

"No... don't leave me," you pleaded quietly. 

Leland studied your face, chewing his bottom lip, as he stared at you determinedly. His eyes were serious. 

"You need to listen to me okay? I don't want to split up but if we are getting out of here, this is the only way to do it. We have to work together," he replied, before gently caressing your cheek.

"I will try to be back quickly."

It wasn't the guarantee you wanted, but you knew that a guarantee wasn't possible. Not in this circumstance. Your stomach churned, the thought of having to leave Leland behind making you feel violently ill. 

The brunette said little else, quickly slipping away in the opposite direction you had come. You tried to keep your voice quiet and still your movement, as you crouched low, nestling in the grass. You felt so exposed, not even convinced that your "hiding" spot was all that safe, but there wasn't much else you could do. 

How did things shift so drastically? 

You focused on steadying your breathing, trying to remember small details, familiarizing yourself with the area. You had to escape. And Maria... your heart faltered at the thought. She deserved better than to get nabbed while out having fun with her friends. Your stomach lurched, not wanting to think too long on the young girl's fate. 

Poor Ana... you could still hear her screams and cries, when you'd learned of Maria's fate. The others had to be alive. You and Leland couldn't be all that was left. You refused to believe it. 

You tried to nestle a little deeper in the grass, when you heard footsteps approaching. You recognized them instantly, your blood running cold. The same ones you had heard back inside the house on the stairs with Leland. 

The man's voice is sharp and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He's so close you could reach out and touch him, but he doesn't seem to notice you just yet, eyes darting around in every direction. It takes everything in you not to inhale, holding your breath when he crouches down, his fingers brushing along the trail in the dirt. 

He grumbles something to himself, and you're terrified he's going to eventually hear you slip up, noticing you cowering in the grass. Your fingers wrap around the tiny sharp bone scrap Leland had handed you, studying the man and thinking of all the possible places you could stab to keep him from coming after you. He was certainly a bit bigger than you and could easily overpower you if it came down to it. You had to be smart about it.

He stands back up, and you're relieved, until you notice the sinister smile curling on his lips. He had turned something up. Probably Leland's tracks. The realization makes your stomach churn. If you didn't do anything, he'd find Leland. 

Once his back is turned, you slowly stand up, ready to strike into the man's neck. You aren't as stealthy as you think however, and upon standing up, the man seems to sense your presence behind him. You inhale sharply as he turns, grabbing your arms. The bone scrap falls to the ground, as you struggle in his grip.

Your wrists are still sore from when you had been hanging from the cellar moments before. You're relieved however, when you spot Leland's familiar shape, ramming his body into the man, which causes him to loosen his grip on you and fall over.

While the guy is stunned, Leland carefully helps you up, urging you to run the opposite way.

"We gotta go," he frantically screams, limping a little behind you, ready to take on the guy that had been after you if he needed to. 

Leland continues to guide you from behind, telling you to keep moving forward, until a gate comes into view. It looks like it's not too far away and leads out onto the open road. Safety tasted a little closer with every step you took, the minute victory eased every fear and pain that had arisen since awaking. 

You can hear the guy Leland knocked over screaming after you, calling out to what you can only assume are the other psychopaths on the small plot of land. Your muscles in your legs ache, as you push on, glancing back ever so often to make sure Leland was keeping up with you. 

He had reopened the small cut near his ribcage. Your heart lurched, hoping it didn't get infected. Leland seemed unbothered however, hobbling on as if it was hardly an issue. 

After what seemed like forever, you eventually pushed out the gate, making your way further up the road. The loud screams of the man slowly drowned out, until you could no longer hear the noise. 

Once Leland was sure you were safe, he paused, leaning against a tree. After catching his breath, he gently took your face in his hand, giving you a once over.

"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you did he? That fucker... I should've done more. Stabbed him with-"

You cut him off, shaking your head gently, as you tried to process what had just happened. 

"I...No..." 

You struggled finding the words, as you finally allowed yourself a moment to catch up, tears slowly slipping down your cheeks. Then the silent cries turned into slightly loud sobs, as your whole body shook. 

Leland gently moved his hands, wrapping you into a careful hug, as he rubbed your back.

"Hey... hey... it's okay, we're okay," he whispered reassuringly. 

You hear his words but don't listen, the world blurring around you. The adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off, and all you wanted was to be back home. Everything around you seemed to slip away, and you can hardly remember what happened after.

All you can recall is one minute you were crying on the road, and the next you were back in the van, hiding far away from the horror house, hoping the others would show. Leland had confirmed that Connie and Sonny had been alive, but they all departed after the maniac with the chainsaw ran after one of them, allowing the other two to escape. 

Leland had found them before you, urging them to meet him at the van once they got out. Informing them he wouldn't step off this property until he knew you were out and safe. 

He couldn't help but feel a little anxious, as you waited for the others. You were curled up quietly against his chest, the tears just now stopping, your body calming. The slow rise and fall of your chest was the only indicator to Leland that you were even alive.

There's several times you hear of how a near death experience affects people. How the adrenaline runs in your veins, your life flashing before your eyes. All the things you still hadn't done, the life you wanted to lead slipping out in a hazy blur. Part of you wonders if Leland had those same thoughts. 

You wouldn't have wanted to be found by anyone else, knowing he was the one person that would know how to keep you from spiraling. To keep you calm.

You nestled a little deeper against him, hands slinking around his waist, mindful of his somewhat new wound. He didn't seem to mind the closeness, resting his chin on your head, a hand gently combing through your hair in soft smooth motions. A gentle comfort to each other.

Leland closed his eyes softly, letting out a quiet sigh.

"I was so scared I'd lose you..." Leland whispered, closing his eyes, as his other hand pulled you closer to him. "After seeing where we ended up I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd do if I couldn't find you. I... I can't live without you."

You carefully moved to study his face, staring up at him with wide eyes. Leland has always been so strong to you. In the many years you'd known him, he cried rarely. Usually it was him quietly reassuring you. To see him practically fall apart made your heart ache. You're surprised when his eyes open and they're a little glassy. 

Leland's hand moved to carefully cup your face, as he let out a somewhat dry laugh. 

"This is what it takes?" he whispers, and you can't tell if he's talking to you or himself. You're unsure what he's even talking about. You shift slightly, placing your hand over his. 

"Leland?"

Your voice is the calm amidst the chaos. A comfort for him. It seems to be a reminder. Leland shakes his head quietly, chewing his bottom lip. Your heart is racing, feeling a sudden shift in the enclosed van. Tension is thick in the air, practically suffocating, as you take in a sharp inhale. 

The way Leland is staring at you makes you practically shrink, your whole body blushing. 

"Wanna know what's stupid? My life was on the line, I was terrified of it, and all I could think was I can't believe I'm going to die never telling you things. How I feel. I told myself if I make it out of this, I won't risk that again. Now that I'm in front of you, it's... so much harder than it seemed it would be. I still am... such a coward."

Leland's voice gets quieter with each word he's speaking, until he's whispering at you almost like he was still afraid of getting caught. Your shoulders tensed, trying to understand his words. You had often fantasized of a moment such as this many nights over, however it was never like this. Part of you was worried you might somehow manage to misinterpret his words, tearing each sentence apart and analyzing if he could mean anything different than what you wanted.

"Leland..."

He cuts you off, gently taking your hand off his and holding it with both of his own. The brunette shakes his head softly, his brown eyes staring up at you intensely. 

"No. Don't speak... not yet. If you do I might lose my nerve," Leland begins, his grip on your hand tightening a little. "I've known you since we were kids... have been in love with you since we were sixteen. It felt like before we had all the time in the world. I was so... scared you wouldn't feel the same. If it's not broken don't fix it... you know? But I... I don't want to talk around it anymore. I want you. It's always and only ever going to be you." 

You meet his gaze with an unwavering look, heart racing, as his words sink it. Part of you is convinced you passed out from blood loss, and all of this is a hazy dream. Leland's words don't feel real, and the only thing keeping you grounded are his careful fingers wrapped tightly around your hand. They're warm against your skin. 

You try to find the words, your mind racing. Leland is staring at you with such desperation, his split lip sticking out, almost in a silent pleading. Begging for you to be merciful with his heart. 

The van suddenly feels hundred of degrees hotter, your skin flushing, as you bat your eyelashes up at him, still a little stunned. Like him you stumble over your words.

"Leland..."

You feel his temperature increase in your hands, his heart racing wildly at the way you say his name. Leland blinks back at you, that hopeful look shining in his eyes. You, like always, had his full attention. 

The words never leave your lips. Instead you were slinking forward, closing what little space remained between you too. The world seemed to slow down, when your faces were close, your noses barely touching. Leland's hand moved to brush your hair behind your ear, as his eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, scared that by speaking the moment will be broken.

When his lips touch yours, your heart flutters, eyes flickering closed. His hand moved to the back of your neck, carefully cradling it, as he urged you closer. You can taste the blood on his mouth from the minor cut, shifting in his lap. 

Your heart drops when he lets out a quiet wince, his free hand moving to his waist. You slowly pull back, heart racing, as you study his wound.

"Shit, I'm so sorry-"

You're surprised when Leland cuts you off with a quiet laugh, smiling up at you. 

"Are you kidding? I'd break every bone in my body if it meant I could feel your tender caress," Leland whispered quietly, adjusting his position, the wound forgotten once again. Then the brunette blushed slightly, closing the space between you once again, as he pulled you between his legs. 

"Don't worry about hurting me... Not anymore." 

Leland's hands gently snake around your waist, as he stares up at you. You'd never seen him smile up at you like that. At anyone for that matter. It was almost like... a crooked smile, his eyes lit up. 

"I want to kiss you again... really I want to never stop but..."

He seemed rather proud of the statement, laughing quietly to himself, before meeting your gaze once again. 

Your hands gently went over his shoulders, resting on his back, as you smiled back at him. He took that as an invitation, getting on his knees and wrapped you into another kiss. This one wasn't near as gentle as the first, his lips moving intensely against yours, as his hand reached the back of your head again. 

He smiles against your lips, another soft chuckle leaving his lips, as his lips move down your jaw. Leland then seems to catch himself, freezing against you, before stopping and looking at you. The scarlet flooding his cheeks makes you smile a little, as he shifts a little.

"I... I'm sorry. I don't ex-"

Nothing mattered in that moment. Everything outside of the tiny van no... outside of Leland faded away. The only thing that you could see were his soft brown eyes and the gentle look on his face. You shook your head, your hands moving to the collar of his shirt, as you pulled him forward a little. 

"Leland, I want you." 

You didn't think it was possible for his face to get redder, as he looked up at you through his thick lashes, chewing his bottom lip. He didn't seem opposed to the idea, his body warm beneath your fingers, as his hands moved to your hips, gently squeezing them. 

"Are you sure...?"

With everything that had happened today, you were desperate for a little sense of normalcy. To let off some of the pent up stress from moments ago. Almost losing everything made you only more assured that this is what you wanted. To take advantage of every quiet moment alone with the boy. 

"Yes. I don't want to wait." 

You'd been waiting for the man long enough. 

Leland's smile makes your heart flutter, as he gently pushes you down, your back meeting the floor of the van. Everything seems to fade away as he carefully unbuttons your shirt, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your neck. 

"You're so beautiful..."

He praises quietly. While Leland was no stranger to seeing you bare, often with years of friendship you two had been comfortable enough to change in front of each other. However this time his glances didn't have to be subtle. He could worship your body the way he always believed you deserved. 

You squirm a little beneath his mouth, letting out a soft moan, when his teeth subtly graze against the skin just above your breast. A faint purple mark settles in it's place, when his lips move to another patch of skin. Everywhere his mouth touched grew warm, only for the cool air to hit it after he moved. The sensation makes her skin crawl, as Leland's hands move to your back, making quick work to unclasp your bra. 

Like your shirt it was quickly discarded, his lips moving to your breasts themselves. Every touch is subtle and soft, his tongue running along your nipple. Your back arched slightly in response, when his teeth wrapped around it. 

Leland seemed rather pleased with the way your body reacted, letting out a quiet hum of amusement, before moving to your other breast. While kissing, his hands trailed down the length of your body, squeezing your sides once again, before slipping into the belt loop of your pants. With a careful tug they started to slip down and he stopped kissing for a moment, looking up to see your reaction. 

After seeing you still enthusiastic for his touch, he smiles, slipping them off. His lips trail down your midriff. Leland's tongue is tickling against the more sensitive spots on your skin, as your stomach sucks in and you let out a quiet giggle which slips into a moan the second he bites you again. 

There's nothing subtle about his movements, however he's careful, ensuring to be gentle. Leland worked with determination, his long fingers removing your underwear at an agonizingly slow rate. You wiggled your hips a little, hoping to encourage him. He smiled up at your response, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

"Already so needy..." he teased, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. Leland's eyes shined every time he saw your body react to his touch, almost like it was a reward itself for him. "I plan to take my time." 

It was clear he was rather pleased with himself. You huffed slightly, chewing your bottom lip, as you smirked down at him, your undergarments now completely removed. 

"I'll remember that next time."

Leland looked up subtly between your legs, as he continued to kiss on you. 

"Next time huh? I like the sound of that." 

You scoffed, ready to quip back, when you felt his tongue gently tease your entrance, making you let out a surprised moan. Your thighs squeezed together slightly, glaring down at him when he pulled back. 

"You're so pretty when you're desperate for my touch," he whispered quietly, his lips returning to your thighs. "Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel real good."

Leland covered your left thigh in small bruises and bitemarks, before moving back to your entrance. This time his tongue dove in a little more aggressively. It moved slowly, exploring your insides. One hand rested on your waist, the other carefully squeezing your right thigh. 

Your own hands ran through his hair, as you tried to push his head a little deeper, shifting beneath his mouth. As expected it did little, only seeming to make his tongue slow down. 

"Leland..." you pleaded quietly, letting out an annoyed whine when he pulled away completely. Leland crept upwards, towering over you a little, his grip on your thigh tightening. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he tilted his head to the side.

"Hmm?" he hummed innocently in response. 

You stared up at him unamused, which only seemed to encourage him. Leland let out a little laugh, kissing his way back down. 

"Tell me what you want. Use your words," Leland whispered against your skin, smiling coyly at you. God if you didn't need to cooperate to get what you wanted, you'd smack that smug look right off his face. Or fuck it off. 

"Leland please... move your tongue faster," you replied. 

Before you could even finish the sentence, his tongue slipped back in, adhering to your request a little. It wasn't quite the pace you wanted, however before you could complain his hand slipped off your thigh, gently rubbing along your clit. Your hips jutted forward in response, and you felt him smile against you. 

You couldn't sit still, the more he slowly worked on you, desperate to increase the speed at which he moved. Each time your hips squirmed however, the pressure from his finger would move. He was teasing you and enjoying every moment of it.

He slowly pulled back again, smiling up at you.

"I'm going to make sure everyone knows just who you belong to," Leland purred, and before you could respond, his tongue darted inside of you again, his fingers moving in a rather quick rhythm. 

It isn't until about the third movement you realize he's spelling his name inside of you, causing your stomach to tighten, as the familiar heat builds inside of you. Between the claim Leland's making on you with his tongue and the quick movements of his fingers, you're unwound completely beneath the man.

Every quiet little gasp and moan only seems to encourage him further, as he places your legs on his shoulders to get a little deeper. Your hands tighten on his hair, pushing his head in, as your breathing becomes ragged.

"Leland..." 

The way his name leaves your tongue drives him wild between your legs, as he continues working you to that point. His tongue is moving frantically inside of you. L-E-L-A-

He doesn't even get to finish the spelling this time, before your thighs clench around him, and your body shakes a little beneath his tongue. That doesn't seem to stop him however, determined to finish his spelling, as he continues to lick around you.

When Leland pulls back, he seems rather pleased with himself, towering over you once again. The hand that had been on your waist moves to carefully grab your chin.

"That's my good girl," he whispered softly, licking his lips. Leland smiled slightly at the taste, savoring every little response you gave him. He then kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth and swirling around. You can feel Leland smiling against your lips as you deepen the kiss. Your mind is still foggy from the orgasm, drunkenly moving your own tongue inside his mouth. 

When he pulls away, he's still smiling, resting his forehead against your own.

"Think you can handle any more," Leland asks quietly, rubbing his hips against your own. You let out a breathy moan, feeling how hard he is through his pants against you. That seems to almost sober you, as you nodded. 

His eyes shine, as he guides your hands up, helping him pull his shirt off. You studied his muscled chest, fingers carefully running along his abdomen, then gently grabbing his waist. 

You were so desperate to feel him inside of you already, grabbing the belt buckle of his pants and quickly undoing it. Leland has no complaints with your actions, helping him slip off the last of his clothes.

You're surprised however to see him just staring down at you. He looks so... peaceful. Content, as he studies your naked form. 

"What?" you ask quietly. 

Leland's smile only widens as he leans down, kissing your ear, his voice just above a whisper. 

"You're just so beautiful. Not just your body but just... everything. I'm enamored by you." 

His praise makes your whole body warm, glowing with joy, as he continues to kiss along your neck. God you were just so perfect to him. He couldn't control himself. He wanted to get lost in every curve of your body. 

Leland reached down guiding himself in. He's slow at first, giving you time to adjust, before fully slipping in. You let out a slight shiver, gently caressing his face, as you smiled up at him. Leland began to thrust inside of you in careful slow movements in response, his lips now moved down to your breasts again. 

He loved the way your body felt against him, as his pace increased a little, noticing the little pout you gave him. Everything about his touch, his movements, were gentle. Very aware of how you were feeling, leaning into your queues.

It was evident that his pleasure came secondary to yours, as he ground your hips against him, making him increase his speed. Leland wanted your first time with him to be completely in your control. After everything that had occurred today, he wanted to do everything in his power to give you a sense of security. 

Leland's hands gently ran up the sides of your body, as he let out a low moan himself, feeling you tighten around him. His face twisted in pleasure, as he moved a little deeper against you. 

The response only made you feel a wetter beneath him, as Leland ran into that particularly sensitive spot. Her back arched in response, the more Leland got to know your body, the quicker he was with catching your reactions and acting on them. Every careful touch and kiss was made with calculated precision. 

"Fuck... you feel so good," he moaned, struggling to control himself. 

The words made a quiet moan of your own escape your lips, shouting his name, as he continued ramming into that one spot, each thrust a little quicker than the last. You matched his speed with ease, eager to bring up to that point.

You could feel him brush against all the sensitive areas inside of you, which only further drove your desire, as your nails dug into his back. The gentleness when you had started had completely faded into a more passionate tango, Leland's thrusts becoming more feral. The way he moaned your name only seemed to turn you on more, now so slick he could easily slip in and out of you. 

You enjoyed every little whimper and moan that escaped the brunette's lips, as you tightened around him a bit more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting nothing more than to be close.

Leland then lets out a rather loud moan, releasing inside of you. He twitches a little, that shooting sensation making your back arch. After a few moments, he slowly slips out, letting out a breathy sigh. Leland rolls onto his back beside you, letting out a little laugh. 

"I needed that... I've wanted..."

He can't seem to string the words together through his labored breathing, running a hand through his sweaty hair, as he turns slightly to face you. Leland smiles when his eyes meet yours, reaching out to pull you close to him, as he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"You... have no idea how many nights I laid awake thinking about you. How desperately I wanted... and now I have you. You feel the same. You... are just everything to me right now."

He rested his chin on your head, gently wrapping his arms around your waist. He didn't even mind that you were sweaty, inhaling quietly. Leland was rather fond of your musk. It was no secret, especially now, that he was fond when it came to a lot of things about you. 

You only purred in response, nestling deeper into his chest and kissing it affectionately. 

"Fuck... Leland that was so much better than I ever imagined..."

Leland smiled softly in response, his sleepy eyes crinkling slightly. He never wanted to let go of you. 

"I love you."

The words fall so effortlessly from his lips, and you stiffen in his grasp, stunned. You hadn't expected it, and based on the way his body seemed to tense up and flinch it seemed he hadn't been expecting it either. You slowly lifted your head, your heart fluttering. 

"I'm sorry," Leland quickly added, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. You'd known Leland long enough to know he was always rather impulsive. It didn't lessen the extent of his words for you, as you gently reached up, grabbing his face in your hands. You smiled sweetly, before climbing on top of and straddling the man.

"I love you too," you assured him quietly, adoring the relief on his face and the way he seemed to relax beneath you, as you kissed him intensely. Leland McKinney. A name you never wanted to forget. 

[small-sinclair]

Snow and Rose

An idea by @violettelune

Reformed!Johnny Slaughter x fem!reader

Welcomed readers: @sup-im-blue

Tw: mention of blood and death, him being a dad, mainly his pov, just something fluffy, not prof-read

He woke up to another nightmare. Johnny dreamt that he found you dead in the sunflower field, your blood stained on his hands, lifeless eyes looking up. Then he heard his daughter crying in the distance. No matter how fast he ran towards her cries, he was never close enough. He was never there in time. It always ended with Nancy standing over the crib and a wicked smile on her face.

“Freed ya, Johnny. Now you can come home,” she would say. “Now you come back home. Come home.”

At his feet, barbed wire and chains wrapped around his legs and arms, pulling him to the ground. He felt roots sewing him to the wooden floor into front of his mother as he looked upon her and her smile. He felt chainsaw blades strangling him as he tried to scream your name, but sunflowers and daisies poured from his lips. His world filled with his victims, his deaths, and they all look at him with empty, lost eyes. He knew their names; how could he forget them? Then his eyes focus to the center and sees you and his child in a broken marble block, red tears falling from your eyes as you look on your child. He tastes your blood, your flesh between gasps and teeth. He hates this. He loves you. Stop. Stop it!

Wake up.

He would wake up in sweat, sometimes shutting, sometimes falling out of bed and pushing away from the bed and from you.

Tonight, however, he woke up with a start, breathing heavily, his dark eyes looking around like a scared wild animal. He looked down at your sleeping form then up at the cracked door leading into the hallway. He needed to check. Johnny just needed time check.

He got out of bed, put the blanket over your shoulder, and crept out of the room but something in his chest didn’t sit. He came back and kisses your head. “Be back, y/n,” he promised. “Keep my side warm.”

He may not be a hunter, but he still kept his talents. He can walk without noise, he can move without sound, and he can be hidden without being seen. Johnny uses that talent whenever his daughter is asleep when he comes home from a long day from the butchers. That’s why he got the job in Wisconsin; the butcher need another slaughter, and he’s good at it. Why waste a talent? He’s used to the blood, to the kill, but these are animals, not man. But he got the job to leave Texas. He swore to the stars he’ll never go back.

Johnny made that promise in a burned down church two years ago, and he stuck to it still.

He snuck out the room and down the hall to the open white door to the cotton candy pink room. He lets out a deep sigh as he came over the little white crib he built and looked down. Ophelia Rosemary Sawyer, his 5 week-year-old daughter, slept like a rock in a pink onesie with a bear in the center. Whatever fear he had, the nightmares, the shadows and ghosts— it all faded when he saw her sleeping in peace. Shes his rock, his world, his reason.

Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand and touched her head, and his heart fluttered when she moved into his hand. She’s not scared of him. As if she’s glass, he picks her up slowly and cradles her. He sneaks to the wooden rocking chair in the corner and rocks back and forth. The moonlight lit the room as the snow fell gently over the evergreens.

“Hey there, little sunshine,” he whispers. “Don’ worry. Daddy’s just needed ya.” He looks down at his world and rests his forehead against hers, kisses it, and holds her close. “I swear you’ll never be alone, ever. I love you… I’ll never not love ya.” Then he looks outside, stands up, and takes her to the window. “Look at ‘at, Ophelia,” he whispers in her small spot of brown hair, “it’s your first snow. So pretty an’ bright.” He looks out at the fields and forests, the farmlands and homes, and he thinks about the fireflies and waving weeds he left behind. “Daddy ain’t goin’ away, sunshine. I promise.”

He closes his eyes breathed out slowly. “Texas can keep the fireflies,” he looked down at his child, his blood and flesh, and his heart swelled, “I got my snow and rose.”

“Johnny?” Your voice was enough to make him jolt but he relaxed. “Why are you up? Is Ophelia okay?” You joined his side and looked down at your child. “I didn’t hear her.”

“Naw,” he answers, rocking on his heel, his eyes not leaving his child. “Sleepin’ like a lamb.”

You rested your head on his arm as he looked outside. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he said as he laid his head on top of yours.

“Is this your first snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it everything you’d imagined?”

He thought for a moment as he took in the land before him. He could imagine Ophelia and her friends running wild outside with sleds, building snowmen, having a snowball fight out back. He could see himself with you during a star filled night while the children sleep, slow dancing with you in the snow, kissing you sweetly while whispering praises. He thought about Texas and the heat, but he thought about you smiling while it snowed, his kids playing, and him giving you a cup of cocoa.

“Everything and more, moonbeam,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. “I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Johnny,” you said back. You looked back at the snow, and you both watched it fall over the moon lit snow.

[azne09]

"Beauty and the Butcher"

— And what should I bring back for you Brielle ?

— Only a sunflower, dad. Like those we saw in the fields. They were so beautiful, and I haven't found any others since.

For stealing a sunflower, a ruined buisnessman who seeked exile in Texas is forced to work for a deranged family to protect his own. Out of love and guilt, his youngest daughter, Brielle, takes his place. Thus begins her nightmare in the house of horrors, while her employers—captors— wait and hope to see wether a beautiful girl like her could possibly fall in love with their youngest son : Thomas, the butcher with the leather face.

(Horror beauty and the beast retelling in texas y'all ? This fic has been in my head for so long now, it's the one I'm most likely to begin actually writing and working on 😭✋️)