Hi, I'm still alive. I just never really use this blog anymore, or Tumblr in general, really. Lately I've been obsessed with The Evil Within & No More Heroes, but I do have other interests, so feel free to hit me up to talk about them. I'm not super into horror anymore, mainly because I'm still squeamish and I hate blood, but I'm working on it.
Slashers reactions to s/o staring at them and when they ask why s/o replies with 'because you're beautiful' ty!
A/N: Here you go, hope you enjoy this one! I really had fun writing this!
Warnings: None, fluff
Characters: Jason, Vincent, Brahms, Bubba, and Thomas
word count: 985
Tip Jar (every bit helps)
Vincent Sinclair: He’s hard away at work, adding wax here and there to a new ‘figure’ he’s made, when he pauses and looks over at you. “What?” He asks with confused eyes, he could feel you staring at him for a while and it had started to weird him out that you hadn’t said anything. “Is something wrong?” Vincent eyes you carefully as you shake your head, moving off the doorframe and walking over to him. He stiffens for a second when you run your hands through his hair, but then leans into your touch.
“You’re beautiful, Vincent.” You say gently, watching his eyes snap to yours in surprise. You smile when a small blush forms on his face, your fingers still combing through his hair. You’d been admiring him while he was working, watching the way he carefully detailed everything; the dim lighting added to the surreal-ness of it and it made you realize just how lovely he was.
Vincent grabbed your hands and kissed them tenderly, “Thank you.” He smiles up at you with a feeling of happiness he’d never known.
Bubba Sawyer: You watch closely as Bubba stiches together a new mask, the other having torn a couple of days ago. He works quietly, fingers pulling the string through skin and fixing it to his liking. The mirror in front of him showing you how concentrated he was, tongue poking out a bit as he continued. “You’re so pretty,” You say softly, watching him look at you through the mirror before turning around in his seat. The small scars on his face give him a rugged look but you knew he was the sweetest being on the planet when it came down to you.
His brown eyes watched you in disbelief before he mumbled something and turned back around, a blush in the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “You don’t need a mask Bubba, you’re beautiful just the way you are.” You cooed, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. The blush that coated his face was dark against his tanned skin and you laughed when he gave you a pointed look.
“Prettier.” He commented, pointing to you and you smiled, pressing another kiss to his cheek and enjoying the way he became a bashful mess.
Jason Voorhees: Cleaning was a must when it came to taking good care of his machete and mask. Jason was sitting in a chair at the table, drying off his newly cleaned mask and looking it over for any new cracks or scratches. You watched him from the couch, sipping on your coffee while eyeing his face lovingly. If he was ever ugly as a kid, which you doubted, he defiantly grew out of it. Jason was not only the nicest person, but also very attractive to you. Given, his face didn’t look like every one else’s but you could care less; you loved the man.
You smiled when he turned his head to look at you, giving you a questioning stare. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was trying to guess what you were thinking. “You’re handsome, Jason.” You watched as he stared at you for a second, the room going quiet as his eyes wandered your face. With a sharp grunt, he shook his head and focused on drying his machete, not believing your words. “I mean it!” You say, getting up and walking over towards him.
He in the process of grumbling out a response when you kiss him, shutting him up. “You are to me. Whether you believe me or not.” Your stern voice made him shut his mouth but you watched the way he blushed and smiled knowing you’d won.
Brahms Heelshire: It was quiet in the mansion, Brahms was letting you use his lap as a pillow while you both read to yourselves. He was very aware of your staring as it was starting to tick him off. Flicking his eyes down to yours, he glares softly at you, “What do you want?”
You smile, “Nothing. You’re just really beautiful, Brahms.” Your words go straight to his tiny heart and he almost drops his book on your head. He’s completely shocked by your words and he blushes a deep red, hiding his face behind one hand as he rubs his eyes. You know he doesn’t believe you but you don’t care; leaning up, you press a kiss to his lips and he stares at you carefully. He lets out a breath he was holding in when you kiss over his scar, almost soothing a phantom burn he feels every day.
He will never tell you, but he almost cries later that day when he thinks about your words. You make him feel less and less like a monster every day.
Thomas Hewitt: He’s in the basement, cutting up actual meat, not human this time, when you surprise him with your presence. He doesn’t like it when you come down into his work area, too many things could go wrong with all the dangerous tools and sometimes people he has there. However, this time he doesn’t say anything but lets you stand there and watch him, only stopping with his hand mid-air and a meat clever tightly in his palm, when you say something.
“You’re handsome,” Your voice sounds so tiny compared to the giant room you’re in and he looks over at you in shock. “I mean it, Thomas. You’re very handsome.” You watch as he sets down the clever and wipes his hands off before walking over to you.
“I don’t have a nose,” He says bluntly and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm lightly.
“You don’t have to believe me, it’s my opinion.” You reply, watching him smile to himself as he repeats your words over and over in his head.