My interests in slashers has diverted to another media entertainment.
Psst, check this out! What to do and not what to do's
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Fandoms I'm willing to write for:
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure (cannot write for part 7-9)
Gachiakuta (and other animes)
Slashers
Creepypastas
And others (not guaranteed either) if you are requesting a different character from the ones not listed and unsure, please add another character from the fandom I have listed.
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I can write for yanderes, poly relationships, death, gore, angst, self harm etc. Unethical asks are welcomed.
Will not write for incest, smut, pedophilia or any thing similar to that. Thank you for reading.
A jabber x reader where reader is very like say, shy or more of a closeted perv? Anywho they're very observant and knows for a fact how much of a masochist he is, and it's like their first time doing since they got together, reader is smacking him all over the place in the best ways possible, THANK YOU 😽
Mask off
Let's get our jabber grinding on.
A cute Raider you were.
Jabber admittedly had his eyes on you for a while, which was surprising even for him. A meek little thing like you?, got him twirling his hair ontop of an abandoned rooftop day dreaming. Jabber doesn't know when it happened. It was just cute to see you squirm, fumble over your words and seeing you pretend like you didn't know what the hell you were doing. Maybe you didn't see it, but he did.
You encountered him hanging upside down one evening, fingers digging into concrete with pure strength and determination. Mumbled something about seeing a red suited man on an old dog eared magazine before confessing, he dropped head first down when you said yes.
Maybe he got permanent brain injury, maybe that's why he's taking things to next base without any plans of leaving.
His fingers fist up in your hair as painfully as the way he bites your lip, his tongue catching the bleeding patch before diving back in to kiss you senseless. But disappointingly, he doesn't do anything other than that. A few gropes here and there but that was it. It was like he was almost being careful.
You pulled away, which earned a confused groan from Jabber who finally cracked his eyes open. "What's wrong? Is it the metals in my mouth?"
"Think it's just you." He didn't get time to process the sudden tone change before you push him down on whatever surface was below you two. The wind knocked out of him momentarily before a smile returned along with his breath. "Babe..." You couldn't help a smile of your own when you notice the glimmer of excitement appear in his eyes.
"Damn, is it just me or are you getting hotter by the second?–" His laughter cut off as a sharp slap crackled through the air and suddenly he was facing towards the right. "Can you shut your mouth for a second?" You hissed, capturing his lips against your own.
His hands find your hips as your palms their way onto his flesh again. He giggles almost drunkenly. Savoring the treatment he was getting, God was he excited.
Your cruel hand wraps around his throat, blocking his airway at the larynx. Jabber's piercing pink eyes stare right back at you before they unfocus. He feels his face go numb eventually, barely registering the horrible unpleasant choking sounds coming out of his throat. The slap that comes now feels different, it tingles. Like it's spreading in pixels across his cyanotic skin. Veins pop out from his temple bulging, was he gonna finally die?
The hips below you rise up desperately, pressing their obvious raging boner against your ass. Like he's trying to fuck you through your clothes, well, at least he's trying. Drooling, spittle falling from the corners of his lips and his eyes rolled back almost to the back of his head. Even a blowjob couldn't bring this expression out of him. His head pounded, like it was going to split and explode. Everything was so perfect, all because of you.
The moment you let go of his throat he couldn't even get a gasp in before you smacked him directly across his face, tears prickle against the side of his eyes. "Babe–[Reader]..!" His voice cracked. You paused, hesitating. Maybe you went too far? But then you felt movement behind you, the sound of clothes and something warm hits your back before it thrusts against the fabric of your pants.
"Eheheh... Sorrryyy." A warmth seeped through your clothes after the glare you gave.
Jabber knelt happily in front of the couch, an imaginary tail wagging behind him. Waiting for you to praise him after the job.
"That was shit, do you ever use your fucking brain and think sometimes?"
Well... A win is a win!
You pressed your index finger at his temple with a scowl. "Even that timid runt could've done a better decent job. But alllll you do is think with your dick." All he ever retorted back was a pleased toothy smile. It's like his brain tissue was replaced with rainbows and lollipops.
Your scowl drops, it was useless to reason with him. With an irritated puff you leaned back, running a hand through your hair. "Is Zodyl not gonna do anything?"
"No, he said you should take care of it instead."
A surge of annoyance sprouted in you. Why does that bastard always leave everything to you? You weren't going to clean up whatever mess he keeps making, not when he couldn't even act like he gives two shits about either of you. If Zodyl could just get his big head out of his big ass for once.
"I'm not his fucking maid!" You suddenly bellowed, startling Jabber a bit. "That asshole looks down on me because I'm a woman? Is that it?"
Leaning down, you glare straight bullets into Jabber's–a breath wrong away from murdering him. He adores that look in your eyes, especially if it's towards him.
A hand lunged out to grab at the roots of Jabber's locs, painfully tugging. He bites his lips at the sting, a low giggle leaving them. "You're insufferable. I can't stand seeing your face." Anything to wipe out that smirk.
Letting go of his hair, you push his head back carelessly. Jabber opened his mouth to say something but a kick to his ribs sent him wheezing, eyes flown wide. His breath momentarily knocked out his lungs.
You stare in disgust as he finds his breathing again after a couple seconds of struggling. "Ahh... Second time now.." He pants with a strained chuckle, holding his rib where a spot of purple was soon to blossom.
He's happy. So happy. You do it just right.
You shoved him back on his ass with a brute kick of your feet, sending Jabber to glide across the floor momentarily. His face flushed in awe. This was the real deal. You were so strong... And so so mean. You hate him, beat him, think about him, reward him and therefore you must love him.
You force Jabber down to the floor by the shoulder, stepping on his arm till your own heel cried out in pain. "[Reader].. You really don't hold back." He feels two thighs stradle his waist and the sharp hiss of revulsion. It's definitely not a gun.
Jabber doesn't even process what you're hurling at him anymore, all thoughts going to the way you were punching the day lights out of him, how blurred your face looked as he tried to keep a steady line of sight. It renders useless as he blacks out, the ache of pain goes out with him.
The next time a ray of light reaches behind his eyelids, he finds his head rested comfortably on your lap. He loves you too.
hi, could you write Brahms or Billy Loomis with the reader and their daughter pls
Tough luck raising children with brahms.
It was mostly likely a careless accident from him. He might indulge a bit into the whole 'putting a baby inside you' in an attempt to look cute and sexy but when the baby actually arrives...
Brahms struggles with sharing their attention, yes, even with their own daughter. Reader is his only source of human interaction, they already have a hard time dealing with the man-child himself.
All the responsibility is dumped onto Reader, Brahms can't help them in the slighest way even if he tried. Mostly out of ignorance and petty jealousy.
What used to be late night cuddling with the love of his life turned into them spending more time cradling the screaming bundle in their arms. Can't it just cry itself to sleep?
He has to come forward with the fact that he is in fact a grown man, even if he's mentally regressed. With another human being in both their care, he begrudgingly tries to achieve those 'paternal instincts'.
Brahms is the type to puff up his chest in pride after rocking their daughter to bed, while his partner did literally everything else. On the topic of this, he does enjoy dressing their child up. He likes to think of his daughter as the living version of his own doll.
It's not too bad. Reader can find Brahms and their baby girl laughing and playing, cooing to her in that baby voice you told him to ditch long ago.
He will eventually become attached because she's something that belongs to both of them, she's a reminder of the love they share. Everytime he looks into her eyes, they remind him of Reader.
Reader who used to be a (kpop) idol before they signed up for military for good.
But they've never expected to feel so ashamed in their life before as they witness their team watch thirst traps of them from years ago during their holidays.
Price had always known this, it was in your file. He couldn't care less back then but as he settles down to relax, his phone's strangely met with popstars on a big stage and an extremely familiar face. Price's eyes reads a caption– 'does anybody else still miss [reader]? :,('
You walk in on Soap watching an edit of you shaking your ass during one of your concerts and you immediately walk back out. "Oi, ye dinnae tell me ye could shake yer arse like tha'!" He calls after you while Big and Chunky plays in the background.
Ghost purposefully plays the music loud enough for you to know it was your group's while making intimate eye contact. 'Baby, 너를 위해, 불타오른 순간,'
"Simon..." "[Reader]."
'Cant wait for too much longer,' Each beat tore down the conscientious image you built for yourself. "It'd be best to shut that off." "I quite like it." No he doesn't.
Gaz forwards you a reel with the message– "Isnt that u?" In which you were doing the aygeo, finger hearts and a pouty face before you scrunched up your nose. oh my god. "Im not tripping right?" "We dont even look alike." "Thats literally you bruh."
Cw: mean and lowkey toxic FEM!reader. Both reader and Wonger are the same age and 18+. This is experimental smut writing.
The entrance to your space opened, creaking through the silence. Wonger with his bloodied shit eating grin. "I'm back!, baby." Zodyl had sent him out on a job that even you weren't sure he'd survive.
Surprise surprise. Turns out, he'd do anything with the promise of you. Yuck.
He dropped down in front of you on his knees, looking up expectantly. "That was hella fun! He actually put up a fight. And I didn't even have to hold back!"
"So... What'cha have in for me..? Or, oh-oh! Wait, I get to pick, rightttt?" Jabber leans in, resting his cheek against your thigh.
"You know you can't back down from that. I swear Boss man's lip twitched when I got back, you ain't see that very often."
Stupid.
Pitiful. That's how you found him all of those years ago in the slums. Scared, broken, defensive. With rings that didn't seem to just quite fit yet.
Man Killer, his jinki stood out to you. An inherently defensive weapon that he used for attack. The Raiders could've used him. So you had the bright idea of picking him up and taking responsibility.
And God was he grateful. When he was left to rot and die eventually, scavenging and fighting only to still end up hanging by a thread, You had saved him from that pathetic fate. Gave him a purpose, a structure, a new meaning in life. So naturally, you're the first person he becomes attached to after separation with mama. And you make sure to put him in his place, perfect.
But he fuckin' creeps you out sometimes. The first time you lashed out at him by punching him in the face with your knuckle dusters and what could only be described on his face was of morbid pleasure. He still admired you, but it just felt too damn good when you were mad at him.
A low groan pulls you out of your thoughts. Jabber's nose nuzzled against the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped snug around your waist.
"You smell good..." He comments behind you, huffing you shamelessly.
And you smell like shit.
"Don't get too worked up." "No promises."
His cock slides up between your folds, nudging over your clit. You weren't wet. Well, not yet anyway. But it didn't matter 'cause his tip leaked more than your pussy did. You had one rule, 'Don't stick your dick in' and Jabber could rub himself raw on you all he wanted.
Now he was groping and squeezing the circulation out of your tits purple, you had to smack his head right. Tweaking and pulling at your nipples in fascination, listening in closely for your reactions. Palming your pebbled buds and coaxing soft sighs from you, his dick twitched against you with every noise you made.
Jabber's hips moved, his wiry bush brushing against your ass with each grind on your pussy. You couldn't focus on anything else other than your apprentice's whimpers and the disgustingly good sparks of pleasure that appeared. "[Reader].. Feels weird, not like- bad weird but weird regardless, is it supposed to feel like tha'..?" "Shut your fucking mouth!" You blurted out, biting down on your lip. Your cunt pulsed and you clamped your thighs together on instinct, trapping Jabber's cock between them.
Immediately it was met with a deep moan of approval from the man behind you. "Shittt....yeah, keep 'em like that for me." His right hand released your breast to latch onto your hip. Keeping you steady while he fucked your thighs. You weren't sure if the slick mess on your inner thighs was independently from Jabber anymore.
Unapologetic whimpers filled your ears. Your eyes locked onto the head of his now deeply flushed dick, drooling stringy white on your bedsheet with each stroke. You swallowed thickly– fuck, when did it get so clammy? You were basically suffocating him numb, not that he seemed to mind. He clearly enjoys it with the way he's just humping you mindlessly now.
"Baby," He starts breathlessly. "You probably gonna say no, but hear me out. Let me fuck you proper–" "No." A frustrated whine tore from his throat, his face buried into your neck. As much as he wants to flip you on your stomach and run both of you to ruins, he wouldn't. Deprivation is your personal favorite punishment and his personal least.
His fingers slid down to your thigh, opening one up as Jabber presses you down on your side on the mattress. Your hand fists up around the fabric, with Jabber furiously fucking himself on your already stimulated clit. Pure white shocks of pleasure, oh you were absolutely drenched. So close... So close to cumming.
Jabber held one of your hands, his thumb brushing over the bronze spikes. He wonders where you got your jinki, not that you'd ever tell him. But you're a fighter, just like him. You two are so similar...is this destiny?
Prolly not.
"Gon' be sooo mad." You barely had time to register what he said before a sharp slap on your wet nerves sends your orgasm exploding on you, fucking through your mind like a train. Stupid fucking Wonger. Your eyes rolled back, vision blurred and your fat cunt clenched around nothing. He's already shot his load on your stomach and chest.
But before you could give him a piece of your mind, he was already passed out. With the same grin he walked in with. You sigh. You'll deal with this tomorrow.
Cw: gn reader, butterfly hybrid Tamsy doing butterfly things; dacryphilia, consumption of blood and piss, non-con.
Butterfly!Tamsy who's the most beautiful creature you've ever seen.
You can't help but admire his wings. Iridescent, shiny patterns painted in scales across them. Pale beige with spots of deep blue and white.
It always felt like seeing Butterfly!Tamsy was royalty. What was he doing down here on the ground?
Butterfly!Tamsy who casually drinks the necter off a flower in front of the cell after kidnapping you. Anyone would drop their guard around him, you being no exception. Then he ate the whole flower...weirdo...
Butterfly!Tamsy who you just stare at in shock after he drinks your tears. Bound to the wall, you helplessly struggle while he closes in. Expecting the worst only to feel his hot mouth under your eye where salty liquid had been flowing. Tongue swiping off every salt and lips pulling at every drop.
You stopped crying much to his dismay.
Butterfly!Tamsy who releases one of your chained wrists only to nibble at the bruised skin. Breaking skin just enough to coax pebbles of blood out. Crying only gets you the same treatment as before.
To that same wall, your ankles were almost chained up to where your hands are. Exposing you in an embarrassingly compromising position, your face burns as you lay open for your beautifully cruel captor. Though the colorful specks of light peeking in through his wings make it a little more scarier.
He gets you into it first. Gently cooing at you, teasing until you can't remember if you were the one begging or protesting. "[Reader], Are you sure you want this? You could always back out now." As if he didn't spend 30 minutes rimming you.
"Ackk! Nghhh..! Stop, stop, I can't take it any–more!" You plead and cry as Butterfly!Tamsy coaxes another orgasm out of you, your muscles tense against your bladder. "Fff-" There it went. You cried out shamefully, this was the end. You couldn't live anymore. How were you supposed to? You were pissing yourself in front of your captor who was lapping it up and tonguing at your slit. That sick stupid smile and the unfocused eyes.
The tear gates came flooding out again.
Relief fills you as he unlocks the chains, your limbs falling back into their natural place. Surprisingly, Butterfly!Tammy's hands find their way around your body and pull you against his own. "Shhh.." His fingers comb through your hair and for a moment, you let yourself think he's comforting you.
Then an unpleasant aroma fills the air, Butterfly!Tamsy only hugs you tighter. Scenting you with that horrible smell of wintergreen, what was he doing?
You yelp as a gelatinous secretion enters into your hole. It's definitely not his cum, but it hardens. He knows damn well there's nobody else in this cage except him, so why was he plugging you up?
Looking up at him with bleary eyes, you figure he just wants to make you miserable.
Romantic and general Jabber headcannons. (This was supposed to be a dating hc but turned into a character study half way.)
There are three things that'll draw him to you. Strength, personally or better yet, both. Personally, I believe Jabber would prefer if his partner had a fun personality. Being strong is an instant win but where's the spice?
He needs someone that can keep up with him. Getting his ass beaten by you, he eats it up. In addition to this, Jabber provokes you to get a reaction back. There's a line he knows he shouldn't cross but he'll keep inching till he's toe to toe with that line.
Very, unsettlingly attentive. With how he plays around with you, you think he's unguarded but he remembers. Every. Single. Detail. Even during the moments when he's tweaking, he's aware of every thing you do.
Sometimes you're worried he might be stalking you because he casually mentions something about you that you don't remember telling. In reality, you did but it was so insignificant you forgot. And he still knows that.
He's extremely clingy during the beginning of your relationship. Lips to cheek, head to neck, hands to waist, legs to hips kinda clingy.
If you have the passion and patience for it, Jabber nerds out on you about his neurotoxins. He rambles about the new chemical he's made before casually injecting it into himself without as much as a warning. Inside his bedroom is just messy genius vibes. Scattered with studies of venoms. While his intelligence is remarkable, it doesn't take away the unkempt state of his chamber. And the smell.
After Jabber runs a fade. If he's unscathed, the person is 100% dead. If he's harmed, he's a 100% making you take care of him.
It's a win for you if you don't mind guys with a little kick to their body odour. Jabber smells..horrible and somehow addictive. He has like hundreds of drugs doses inside him, I'm like 50% sure his blood could either make you high or make you foam at the mouth.
He likes when you pamper him. Like, princess treatment style after you finish wrecking him up. It's basically after care for him. Yeah, he likes it when his partner is a little mean to him. Toxic means he can never let his guard down, just like it's been all his life, so that would be the most comfortable choice for him. But he doesn't know how to feel when he finds a good person who doesn't bore him. But he'll do it his way and keep them all to himself until he figures them out.
When you're in bed together, or somewhere quiet and the atmosphere is just right–Jabber stays dead silent. His eyes are almost empty as he just stares at you with an impassive face. Eerily still with a calmness you don't see much.
Jabber's also very fond of sparring matches with you for two very obvious reasons.
He also likes using Mankira on you! Not the super dangerous ones but just enough to keep you hammered and he uses this as a sort of bonding material. You must be enjoying this as much as he does.
At this time around, you can try testing the waters and gently trace the numerous lines and marks on his body. Half self inflicted and half from outside forces. (Despite Kei Urana giving us a top sketch of Jabber, I don't believe he would be so free of scars)
It won't be until a while into the relationship that you realise Jabber's need for pain is a form of coping mechanism. He needs that hurt to ground him into the present so he won't spiral. He's not asking you to beat him just because he's a freak. It's his unethical source of reward and comfort. If not pain, then he'll try the bedroom. Because that's where happiness stems from, right?
Of course, it's not always like this. He appreciates being as normal as he can with you but Jabber relapses often.
When he does, he crawls to you hoping you might help him.
Cw: just enjin ragebaiting, reader doesn't play along with his antics and handles it pretty well.
Note: I am very much a believer of loyal and caring enjin 🫣 this is just a 'what if'
slightly toxic!Enjin who's actually DOWN bad for you.
slightly toxic!Enjin who likes riling you up by giving a quarter more of his attention on a girl than he should've. Technically, he's not cheatinggg
slightly toxic!Enjin who gets confused and even little hurt when you don't react the way he wanted you to.
slightly toxic!Enjin who then (un)surprisingly falls deeper in love. Someone that can put up with his bullshit? Now you're hitting his soft spot.
slightly toxic!Enjin feels a small stutter in his chest after you confront him about holding a girl's arm needlessly during one of his cleanings.
He hoped you'd bring it up. slightly toxic!Enjin loves that you're jealous, even if not articulated by a lot.
Maybe it wasn't the bright idea to brush off you off..
slightly toxic!Enjin that perhaps may have miscalculated how much of his bs his sugar could put up with.
slightly toxic!Enjin that just stares dumbly in shock after the words 'break up' spilled from your mouth along with other nonsensical nonsense. His still lit cigarette between his fingers emitting smoke as his only response.
slightly toxic!Enjin who saw the way the blank look rested apprehensively on your face that day. It wasn't one he'd seen on you before, and he started thinking he had really overstepped it this time. But hey, he wasn't cheating! Although he did step away from the woman he was trying to charm (only because you were looking and he wanted another reaction) up.
slightly toxic!Enjin who felt his worries melt away once the corners of your lips lift up into the smile he adores after you two were alone. Nah, just overthinking.
slightly toxic!Enjin who had been so self reassured back then now realises the measure of his fuck-up.
You hadn't put up much a fight. You were....so..calm. So..normal, so – mature. And for once, slightly toxic!Enjin wished you had been needier. More desperate to make him stay.
slightly toxic!Enjin who misses you more than anything, the pain of your absence hurts more than he'll ever like to admit. Too used to acting like he's untouchable.
The pain doesn't numb no matter how many times he drinks himself dumb. It'll always be there the next morning.
Infatuated!Enjin that's absolutely locked in. Can't even think about fooling around after getting a taste of you. Womanizer who?
Infatuated!Enjin who talks to the other guys initially about work before it starts slowly trailing to you.
Semiu is irritated af, she tells you about it. He was attached to Rudo, doing nothing, and now infatuated!Enjin is emotionally attached to you– doing even more of fuckass nothing.
Infatuated!Enjin just smirks, hanging an arm loosely around your shoulder before turning you guys away. "Alright, alright. Gotta take me and babes away now."
Infatuated!Enjin who's trying to balance between getting shit done and making sure you're alright whenever you two pair up in missions. He does that floating-in-the-air thing with his umbrella while holding you before the romantic scene gets interrupted by Rudo's yelling.
He tries being a smooth nonchalant around you but loses his cool when the kids are around.
Speaking of missions... Infatuated!Enjin has definitely begged Semiu to make sure you go with him during cleaning.
You're in the Team Akuta anyway, so what if your jinki isn't convenient for this clean up? You can just sit back and let him handle this– *gets knocked out*
Infatuated!Enjin who gets irrationally jealous and is sooo dramatic about it. You made a typo while texting him which turns into a name and he curses out both you and typo-name.
If Infatuated!Enjin ever has someone trying to hit on him, he'll just laugh and shut them down. "Sorry, I'm taken." Better yet, if you're near he'll definitely make a show out of pulling you in and placing kisses on your lips. Hope that guy didn't take it too personally.
Coming back from a long trip. (That the slashers weren't consulted about.)
Cw: mentions of violence, relationship is hinted towards romantic but can also be interpreted as platonic.
Pissed. Absolutely pissed. Michael's usual apathy and tolerance towards you rose up with the life long resentment he's dealt with all his life. The hell were you doing coming back after leaving him in this damned town?
He grabs you by the collar of your shirt and slams you back against the wall. You can't help but eye at his notorious weapon that's basically stuck to his palm like a second limb. And you think he might really add you to his ceaseless cemetery.
But he doesn't. He might entertain the idea of hauling you around the floor later but right now you're better off running your mouth explaining yourself. His knuckles dug a numbing ache on your sternum as he stared at you. Even though you can't see his eyes, you feel as if he sees beyond your flesh and into your very existence.
His hand retreats and you barely catch yourself from the sheer relief. Michael's peeved by your lack of consideration for him, he kept you alive for so long and for what? For you to just up and go out of nowhere? It doesn't matter that he goes missing for days stretching on weeks himself, at least you know what he's doing.
Bitter and irritated, Michael restricts your access to see the sun and grass. You had your fun without him long enough. Any form of resistance is met with silence, walking away or dragging you back inside the house. A bit rough on the edges and further within but if you have the heart to really see it; he means well...in a way. If you can ignore the fact sometimes he unintentionally tries killing you.
Brahms, oh dear, was an absolute total wreck. Hyperventilating and sobbing in his little secret room in the attics as he grips and pulls on his hair till multiple strands rip out.
He'd gotten too attached, and hesitantly–too trustful. He wanted to trust you, I mean, besides the fact he's basically kept you hostage here; you have stuck around! Brahms even kept that piece of shit Malcom alive through gritted teeth for your sake. He's a shameless brat but being on your bad side wouldn't be worth the trouble.
And there you were (or lack thereof) nowhere to be seen around the house! God dammit [reader]! What does a man have to do to not be abandoned?!
A small gasp leaves his lips when he hears the click and groaning of the door echo in through the walls. Could it be–?
You call out his name softly, you still. And then the fucking wall next to you breaks. A heavy body thrown against you held your own on the floor, your eyes met the ones hidden behind a porcelain mask. And his scent...he hasn't showered since you last left. "[Reader]!!" He whines in that high pitched voice you told him to drop. Old habits die hard.
"I thought...you left.." Brahms voice cracks as he trails off, hot wet droplets fall onto your face. He mumbles a few more times about how worried and lonely he was before burying his face into your chest, his shoulders shake. His fist twists and pulls onto your child akin to a sobbing child.
Hope you enjoy greasy Brahms rolling around you and trapping you in inside rooms for the many months to come.
Jason couldn't even begin to explain how hurt he felt. One morning he came to your bedroom only to find you gone. Your bedsheets still rumpled. He tries to calm his nerves and went checking near the other cabins. The cabins turned into the dungeon underneath, the dungeon turned into the woods before he found himself at the foot of the sign on the edge of camp crystal Lake.
His already zero tresspass tolerance drops down to negatives. He tenses, hesitating when he believes he sees someone that is you. Only for disappointment to fuel the flames of his wrath and obliterate the person's face to unrecognizable mauled flesh.
At night, dispair grips his rotten heart. Wondering where you were and turning to the ghost of his mother for comfort.
You stalked through the forest, watching out for bear traps laid among the trails. Stupidly, you step and trip over a large decayed branch. Wincing at the sharp crunch that broke out.
Balancing yourself against a tree you peered out, smiling faintly as you caught sight of the shimmering reflection of the small waves in the lake you spent time and time again admiring...a brittle thud suddenly snapped just beside your head. Upon sight, it was Jason's machete!
When you turned around, Jason immediately grips your arms with inhumane strength and you swore he could've teared through muscle if he wanted to. He shakes you hastily as if to knock some sense into you. Are you you serious? He was about to slice you in half if he didn't think better!
He drags your body to your cabin, shoved you in and locked the door. Your arrival...it was such a huge sense of relief, but he couldn't let you do whatever you wanted without any consequences. His mother keeps him company, but yours is the one thing he wants to keep to himself.
The day turns to night and he finally comes in, willing to listen to your reason of fleeing.
Movie trivia night!–hey, where were you? Your ghostface costume lays lifeless and cold without its owner. Ghostface thinks this is just you fucking with them. Alright, admittedly they did pull a number of less than ideal pranks of you themselves. Maybe this is just them getting their own medicine.
"You stupid cunt! What kind of a fucking poseur are you?" The voice changer clips in through the victim's cries, their knife messily plunges in and out of the woman's chest. "Isn't this what you wanted?! So much for a slasher enthusiast, you couldn't even get the first question right!"
They'd been alone in this. They already tripped and banged their head against the wall a couple times, fuckkk..[READER]! They realise how much harder it is to do this crap without you, the fun persist but it's annoying when Miss Balloon Tits squeals every minute and loses her brains. For shit's sake, if you wanted to go on a peaceful little vacay you could've told them first.
As pissed as they are, all is good. They found out when you were coming back and when you do, they'll have a little talk.
The tip of the blade drew into your skin, coaxing a bubble of red to come up from the surface. "Did you have funnn?" Damn them and that stupid cocky voice changer.
"Leaving me all alone to do alllll the work?" That mask has never looked more annoying... But the piercing below your collarbone makes you grimace. "Since you wanted to be so independent and go on your big trip without informing your big ol' ghostface."
You successfully pissed off your killing buddy, enduring their taunts was the best you could do. They were so emotional.
The next day, they smile at you in public as if nothing had happened the night before.
headcannoning Jabber as the smartest bitch ever just to spite the racist assholes making him dumb in fanfics. ‘errrm i don’t think jabber can read’ fuck you. were we watching the same thing. Did you not see him CUT OPPONENTS WITHOUT THEM EVEN REALIZING. you think jabber can constantly be on a fucking cocktail of drugs and not accidentally kill himself in the process without being a fucking genius? I make the rules now. Jabber has doctor handwriting, he’s got his own lab hideout that’s absolutely filthy but is full of like 200 notebooks organized in a manner no one else can decode, and gets reorganized every week based on like 3 different themes. He synthesizes his own poisons or whatever the fuck i don’t know chemistry but the point is he does that shit. He has his own abbreviations that he uses in all of his experiments. are half of them based off of dick jokes yes but either way his handwriting is so fucking shit that you won’t be able to read them. Fuck you he has photographic memory now. He might be batshit but he’s fucking intelligent and i am NOT letting you dipshits take that away from him.
Cw: just enjin ragebaiting, reader doesn't play along with his antics and handles it pretty well.
Note: I am very much a believer of loyal and caring enjin 🫣 this is just a 'what if'
slightly toxic!Enjin who's actually DOWN bad for you.
slightly toxic!Enjin who likes riling you up by giving a quarter more of his attention on a girl than he should've. Technically, he's not cheatinggg
slightly toxic!Enjin who gets confused and even little hurt when you don't react the way he wanted you to.
slightly toxic!Enjin who then (un)surprisingly falls deeper in love. Someone that can put up with his bullshit? Now you're hitting his soft spot.
slightly toxic!Enjin feels a small stutter in his chest after you confront him about holding a girl's arm needlessly during one of his cleanings.
He hoped you'd bring it up. slightly toxic!Enjin loves that you're jealous, even if not articulated by a lot.
Maybe it wasn't the bright idea to brush off you off..
slightly toxic!Enjin that perhaps may have miscalculated how much of his bs his sugar could put up with.
slightly toxic!Enjin that just stares dumbly in shock after the words 'break up' spilled from your mouth along with other nonsensical nonsense. His still lit cigarette between his fingers emitting smoke as his only response.
slightly toxic!Enjin who saw the way the blank look rested apprehensively on your face that day. It wasn't one he'd seen on you before, and he started thinking he had really overstepped it this time. But hey, he wasn't cheating! Although he did step away from the woman he was trying to charm (only because you were looking and he wanted another reaction) up.
slightly toxic!Enjin who felt his worries melt away once the corners of your lips lift up into the smile he adores after you two were alone. Nah, just overthinking.
slightly toxic!Enjin who had been so self reassured back then now realises the measure of his fuck-up.
You hadn't put up much a fight. You were....so..calm. So..normal, so – mature. And for once, slightly toxic!Enjin wished you had been needier. More desperate to make him stay.
slightly toxic!Enjin who misses you more than anything, the pain of your absence hurts more than he'll ever like to admit. Too used to acting like he's untouchable.
The pain doesn't numb no matter how many times he drinks himself dumb. It'll always be there the next morning.
Cw: dead dove do not eat! This fic includes cannibalism, knifeplay, gore, violent erotic acts of stabbing, unrealistic way of dying, angst, ooc? jabber and user wanting to die early and lovers' suicide. Don't read if you're not comfortable with mature content.
Jabber and you love each other to death. You guys don't really know how long it's been since you've been together, but it sure has been a helluva long time.
Both of you were somewhere in your late 30's to early 40's, the other Raiders are sometimes still surprised he's been able to keep a lover this long. But you two, as married couples do, need to settle down as much as Jabber resents the idea. Neither of you were getting any younger.
It wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be, he spent almost all of his waking moments with you and it was then when he really noticed changes. He was terrified of growing old–senile, pitiful, weak.
But it was a little less scary with you by his side. He could ignore everything else that way.
Jabber knew if he was going to go out, he was going out with you.
"You sure about this, baby?" Your lover whispered to you, perched on top of him in bed. A knife in your hand, the tip trailing razor cool kisses along his skin–eliciting goosebumps from him.
"'m sure..." You reassured. A gentle smile on your face that Jabber adored so fuckin' much.
"Y'know we could jus' skip the last part. Fine with just feelin those pretty hands ruin me." It was his idea, you matched him in every way but he knew this was a lot. Even for you guys.
"I said we'd do this tonight, so we're doing it." Your words cut through and he stayed silent for a few moments.
"Then promise me you'll keep your word." That kind of tone wasn't one you hear from Jabber, if, at all.
"I promise. And I'll make it hurt."
With your guarantee, Jabber leaned back and grinned for the first time since you entered his bedroom. He's back.
"Y'know I luv it when you're rough with me, ma. Don't hold back." The first cut came in, it always stung the freshest. Jabber bit his bottom lip wickedly, it hurt best when you were doing it.
Then came the second, then third, fourth...all the blood catching into multiple lines, falling onto the sheets below and claimes it red. His eyes, now unfocused and blurred with the pleasure from the pain he's receiving looked at your face. So pretty, cruel and all his. "'Bout two decades and you's still the hottest thing I've eva seen..."
His cock bulged against the fabric of his pants, strained against your bottom. Not that either of you noticed, his torso and chest were covered in lacerations so deep Jabber could individually feel heartbeats.
"That fuckin' burns so damn good...!" Jabber gasped, his back arching into the blade with a mewling moan. Deep crimson painted his beautiful skin, and you honestly couldn't ask for a better canvas. "Gimme more, baby, cut deeper." His hips buckled up into your ass, his weeping dick crying out for attention.
Without warning, you pushed the knife in his stomach a good 2 inches or so as you gazed down at his happily distressed face. "I love you so much, Jabb."
"Yeah..?"
"Simply torturing you is not enough,
I need to eat your flesh."
Jabber's eyes widened, his mouth agape as he repeated your words in his head. Then a maniacal grin split his face as he laughed a rumbling growl. "I knew you had it in ya, babes!"
"I fucking love you too! Do it, pierce my flesh with your teeth!" He cried out daringly.
With a loving touch, and good intentions; you bent down to the side of his neck, baring your teeth to his willing skin. You tasted the salt, then your canines punctured in first, then all your teeth gathered his ripped bleeding flesh into your welcoming mouth.
Jabbers eyes rolled back, agonized blissful tears welled up as the pain put him into a short shock. "FUUUCCKKK!!!! THAT HURTS SO FUCKING BAD!!"
You chewed and chewed, the scent of copper and metallic salt overwhelmed your nose and tongue. But you loved him so much, you couldn't stop. You needed him inside of you in every way, you would eat him until he was a husk. Until he was no longer, in your arms.
Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and stars did he look beautiful... He choked up blood, matching the black red of your own mouth that dripped with his bodily fluid.
"You still there?"
"Yes, ma..." He whispered out barely, now starting to recover from the initial shock. The small teared hole at the side of his neck streamed down red on the pillows. You hoped he wouldn't bleed out just yet.
Jabber took in the sight of you and almost came in his pants, your beautiful lips stained with his blood. "Soo beautiful...I fo sho lucked out, huh..?"
You leaned in, tenderly resting your forehead against his. Jabber couldn't fucking smell anything else, god the smell of blood was so intense he almost threw up. You pulled back, taking the knife then plunged it into his torso. Jabber wheezed as his body instinctively drew up.
Sweat dripped down his face as he watched you repeatedly stab him, he was blurred in a line between ecstasy and torment. He forced himself to watch as you practically opened him up for you. The knife and your hands sticky and soaked, and Jabber swore there were chunks of him on that blade.
"Promis' me..." He coughed out. "Promise me you'll kill yourself after you take my life. That we'll die together,"
You halted and looked at him. As the good partner that you are, you comfort him wth a smooch. The taste made his head spin in the worst and best way. "Of course I will," You mumble against his mouth.
"Stab me." Jabber surprisingly felt a new surge of energy at your words. His hand engulfed yours that was around the handle of the knife, turned it around and thrust it into your absomen. The pain shot in mere seconds later, you clenched your belly and the sting only got worse. The liquid pooled in a fat clear line down to your groin. You're pretty sure Jabber is just running off of adrenaline.
At least in this way, you'd both die at the same time instead.
You balance yourself by putting your hands on his shoulder, you stare lovingly into the eyes of your husband as he forces the knife in and out repeatedly. Your nails digging into his shoulder painfully, "Jabber!!" With each stab, the sharp pain morphed into a big ache. Until it almost felt numb.
Finally, he pulled the blade out. Letting it fall onto the mattress beside you. You spilled blood and guts over his own gaping hole, bloody saliva hung loosely from your lips. Your masochistic lover still had more energy to run off before he went out.
"One las' time, baby." He promised, he hooked his fingers over the waistband of his pants and tugged down. His cock sprang out, smacking against your ass. The slit slick with clear white. He tore off whatever garment you had on, grabbing the fat of your bottom. His oddly cold rings sent a chill down your spine. The tip of his dick caught on your entrance, and he dove straight in without another word. One last climax, one last act of love.
Each thrust of his hips sent your body tensing, more blood dripping out from your wounds. You cried beautifully on top of him, babbling his name along with other incoherent words. All Jabber cared about at this moment was you, and his impending orgasm. You were covered in his truest essence, there was nothing else that even hold a candle of how breathtaking you looked right now.
Your body threatened to give in, your vision going blurry but the feeling of his cock inside you kept you awake for longer. Hot liquid fell from your eyes and onto his face. The unbalanced merge of pain and pleasure spiked your senses. You were going to cum, fast. Jabber could only smile wickedly when he felt you tighten around him.
Your walls clenched around him as you reached your high, your eyes fluttering close. You chomped down on his injured neck, biting down once more. Your orgasm triggering his own as he came thick ropes inside of you. Filling you up, claiming you in the best way he knew how. He bellowed out curses.
"We did it, baby.." Jabber breathed out after he calmed down. Still buried inside you.
As the adrenaline gradually dissipates, so does the light in his eyes. His breath quickly becoming shallow.
"We did," You huffed, you were in no better shape. You had collapsed on top of him. Your open gashes rubbing against each other, wet, warm and mind numbingly excruciating.
You were going out, too. With the last of your strength, you pressed your lips against his. "I love you."
Jabber had the faintest, weakest smile on his face. He tried returning your kiss but he could only let his lips linger.
"I love you too..." He mumbles against your mouth softly. Gone. Leaving you to gaze at the lifeless eyes of the man who ruined you for everyone else.
With a shuddering sigh, you close your eyes for the last time. Your lips still pressed against his.
Hii, I have a lil request for slasher & child!reader. It’s a little bit personal, sorry haha.
Do you think you could write something with a child reader who has anemia? It’s sometimes literally just called “lack of blood,” so you can get an idea of how crappy it is to have.
It makes it really hard to breathe and makes my heart beat abnormally faster compared to people who don’t have it, and lots of chest pain. It also causes extreme cases of fatigue and headaches, and I have fainted because of it before.
I feel like having anemia would be a big struggle for slashers, (what with having to constantly run, lift thing, being real active) so they’d def feel upset that their kid has it.
There’s a lot more stuff, but you get the idea. Sorry if this one’s a bit more personal
No, no. It's perfectly fine. I hope you're doing well, I'm sorry if I made the condition sound worse than it is. Apologies for my ignorance.
And take care of yourself, anon. 🏹❤🔥
Cw:
Relation: platonic.
Slashers in this: Michael, Jason, thomas, bubba (sorry I couldn't write for billy & stu and sinclair twins)
Slashers x anemic! child! reader
Michael
It didn't bother him that much, but it did worry him. He didn't particularly have to worry about running... Well you running because he'd prefer you stay at your parents' house when he does murder but if you don't have any.... Well, he would rather carry you to safety if you're having trouble anyways. He'll survive. With Michael, there's always a home but never a home to stay at though.
he doesn't like standing and observing you whenever he notices you're having trouble breathing and when you clutch your chest in pain. He doesn't know what to do and he wishes he does.
Do you need.. What were those things again? Inhalers? He witnessed a few people use it when their breathing was erratic and rough so he wonders if you need it too. But for now he'll rub your back and hope it helps to support you emotionally that you're not alone and he's here. Whatever you need him to get, tell him and he'll try his best. Supplements? Give him an hour. I think he knows a pharmacy somewhere that he can break into. And don't even try to refuse them, he won't have it.
Since you're a child he worries this might be too hard for you – and he hopes it won't be the end of the world for your life anytime soon.
You're tired? That's fine, sleep on the couch or floor. Anywhere, he doesn't care. Just not on him. (You can convince him if you try hard enough.) He doesn't care if you nap 3 times a day, sleeping is good for you and helps you grow. Or so he heard. He doesn't even sleep that much anyways – your deadly father figure Michael approves. What he doesn't approve of are the headaches you get, the more painful they seem the more frustrated he gets. God dammit, why is your life so difficult? Where are the painkillers again?
Okay so the real panic sets in the first time you passed out in front of him. Fuck, did you die?
He's shaking your body slightly and pressing his ear up your chest, letting out a silent sigh when he hears your faint heartbeat. He gently lifts your body and places it on the couch – he sits beside you, watching you over like a hawk. Michael can't believe it. Never in his life had he thought he'd look after and stress for someone this hard - especially not a child. You must be absolutely insane if you think he's the type to care for one and yet here he is, listening carefully for your breath to hitch and your eyelids to be open.
He sighs, why can't he just murder peacefully? He's questioning everything. But he'll get used to it eventually. Sometimes he acts like you're a burden on his shoulders and a source of meaningless grey hairs but that's not exactly how he feels. It's.. Different.
But never hesitate to trouble him, not even when he comes back after 2 all nighters.
Jason
He is always so scared that one day your body might give up and die. The thing he stresses really hard about is that he can't give you the supplements and things you need. He's in the middle of buttfuck nowhere in the woods but he does know where the end of the woods are and he's kind of willing to step into civilization if it gets really bad, he really doesn't want to see his kid in pain and do nothing about it. He's not going to Manhattan again though. Always extra painstaking when he takes care of you and makes sure you don't need to use your body as much.
Anytime someone enters the camp he's immediately shoving you somewhere safe and deals with whoever trespassed himself. Although he's in immense discomfort when you have your headaches and difficulty in breathing. He's begging for his mom for help in his mind what he can do to ease whatever pain you're growing through.
Although Jason doesn't need to eat, he knows you do. So he searches for fish in nearby lakes (if there are even any) and he gets nuts, whatever is rich in iron. He'll get em for you.
Secretly hopes that people do trespass into camp crystal Lake. Those who happen to carry iron vitamins and supplements that is. He feels extremely relieved after going through the bags of one of the victims he's beheaded and finding a bottle, happily handing it to you and if you don't want to consume it he's very gently shoving it down your throat. Nope, you're going to eat this and that's final. Mama pam says so.
Sighs and lays you down when your chest starts hurting and stays by your side. Why do you have to go through so much? He thinks as he rubs your hair and waits for it to go away so you both can carry on whatever you were doing. Because of this, he doesn't allow you to lift the wood that he's chopped. If you insist it's either he stays stubborn or he allows you to carry the thin ones one at a time. You don't have to help him, and while he appreciates the thought. He would rather you stay inside and be safe.
Unfortunately for him, he doesn't catch on that this act of overprotectiveness and treating you as if you were made of bubble might upset you. Tilting his head to the side slightly as he watches you sulk in the corner in both frustration and feeling of being heavily underestimated. He really doesn't mean any harm. A little confused but Jason's got the spirit.
Panicks really hard every time you faint, his mind always wanders to the worst possible case scenario and assumes you have died. Incredibly frustrated since he's technically dead and a lot of his senses don't work properly. He's losing his touch and things are getting a bit hard to hear. Ear pressed hard against your chest, hoping his eardrums will be met with the thrum of your heartbeat and his fingers checking for your pulse, waiting to feel the throb upon his skin.
Got used to you getting fatigued and actually encourages you to sleep. It's better than following him outside of the cabins and into the woods where you risk getting bear trapped. Strict, very strict.
Thomas
Thomas is already very grateful for his family but he's even more grateful for them right now cause he would have no idea what to do without them. It depends, whether you're blood related or illegally adopted he will get used to it eventually. This ain't the craziest the family has dealt with.
He brushes you off whenever you try to help him carry things, what if you get dizzy and get headaches again? No! He won't have it. He carries you in his arms and sits you down somewhere. You can sit on top of his shoulders if you'd like.
Gets especially anxious when there are people comin in. He knows you won't particularly be targeted nor would the family allow you to exert yourself, but if something goes wrong? You have to run, and then your breathing will get roughed and- he doesn't want to think about it. But it does stay on his mind a lot. He makes sure to reassure you however he can when Hoyt makes you feel like you're a hindrance to the family, he doesn't know what he's talking about, is what Thomas tries his best to tell you. 'He's just scared.' He thinks and pats your head.
Heard from mama mae that meat, dark green vegetables and nuts will help raise your iron. (Assuming that he has been somewhat educated on your condition.) And then from now he will pester you to consume those. You don't wanna eat the meat? Why not? But fine, eat your veggies and nuts then.
Iron supplements? What are those?
Your chances of getting them are pretty low, I'm not sure if there's a pharmacy or clinic nearby but fingers crossed Hoyt might get in that damn truck and drive to get them for you if he feels nice enough. Tommy's not allowed out into the public.
Frowns a little when he cuddles you in his lap for you to fall asleep and feels your hands are cold. Why are they so cold?, hell why are you so cold? It's not even winter yet. Oh but when winter does come he's smothering your body with lots of layers. Will add more layers if you fall sick. And no, that's not up for debate.
When you faint he'll first stare at your unconscious body in shock before picking you up and putting you down on the couch, he puts his hand in front of your nostrils and feels air hitting his fingers. With a relieved sigh he patiently waits for you to wake up. Not too alarmed.
It's a different story when you're in pain, his heart breaks a little when your chest hurts and your head aches. You want water? Give him a break, he's trying his best.
Bubba
Out of this list, he's the one to handle this the worst when one of your more serious side effects takes place. And it really doesn't help that his family kinda don't know what to do either. They can try to help but it probably won't work that much.
It's lowkey over for you.
It also depends. All he knows is that something is wrong with you; you get dizzy, your breathing gets all incorrect, your chest hurts and you (guessing because of the rougher environment) faint a few times too much to what he'd prefer. Absolutely clueless.
Although you do have more of a leverage if you have at least somewhat knowledge about your condition. (Reading books or you were adopted and knew it beforehand way back prior to when bubba killed your parents.) This way Bubba can learn and know what to expect, he's very much happy to learn about you and take care of you to the best of his abilities.
Quite sad actually that you can't properly take part in revving the chainsaw and chainsawing people. Though the times that you can are when the victim is tied down and helpless. It's up to you whether or not you want to partake in it, though you don't have much of a choice. The family's set on tradition and won't understand why if you don't want to; 'you WILL be killing people with this chainsaw! I'm sick of this phase of yours!' 'It's not a phase.'
Seeing you faint will almost send Bubba to tears, hell, maybe it did already. He's just shaking your body while whining and babbling incoherently. After the whole incident he'll rarely ever let you out of his sight, great, now he's dragging you everywhere.
There will be a lot of problems being in the Sawyer family. But at least you're still alive... Right?
I really love your child reader writings with all my soul and it fills my soul and makes me feel safe and comforted, I adore them. I wanted to request something from Michael Myers where his younger sister (who is Angel Myers? but she is a reader) would visit him once a year at Smith's Grove (their parents do it willingly but avoiding Loomis, it never suited them as it seems). obsessed with a child) and Michael adores her, these are the only moments in which he comes to himself and is happy. Both brothers adore each other can be seen, reader's new parents see it and are heartbroken that Michael has been raised in a horrible environment so they try to at least ease their painful stay in Smith's Grove but Loomis realizes and wishes having reader as a patient, the parents deny it and they are denied visits but they do not leave without explaining to Michael. It is a plot that he had in his head, I feel that Michael did have problems as a child but also nobody offered him sincere help and he was left alone without meaning to. From then on I don't know where he's going, I'll leave it to his imagination, take care of yourself and I love his imagination! 🖤✨🌸
This sweet request has been rotting in my ask box for far too long.
Also sorry anon I couldn't really understand so I tried to the best of my abilities 😅
Also, for some reason I went with rob Zombie Michael. It just sounded more right with the way you described the scenario.
The sound of your shoes making contact with the hospital ground sounded quite nice to you.
What was nicer was that you were visiting your brother again, you've done this every year. It's like a religious thing now.
You loved it since every time you came Michael seemed to always lighten up even though he has the most expressionless face ever. You know you're his source of light and he knows you know it too. (As much as he would cringe at that.)
You held on to the bag you had tightly. The soft crunching of the plastic wrapper inside it whenever you took a larger step than the previous. It was the 19th of October, it was Michael's birthday and also during his favorite holiday and you wanted to give him a bag of his favorite candies during it.
Your parents talking and discussing whatever they were discussing behind you along with guards near them.
Deciding to ignore everything and just walk until you see the visitation room. You heard from Michael how awful the sanitarium is, the food is always cold and stale and that they tasted like 'dog shit'. With this you tried to learn how to cook so that your brother may taste a decent home cooked meal for the first time in a long time.
You saw the visitation room where Michael was in and you happily opened the door, ignoring the guard's warning.
You could already see the slightly hopeful look on Michael's face right when you entered and turn into a small glad smile, although you weren't originally allowed or supposed to give an inmate anything, some strings were pulled by Dr. Loomis. What a nice man! Your parents seem to elude his presence you never understood why but you didn't really care as of now.
"Michael!"
"Reader!"
After hugging what felt like after hours, you sat down next to him and brought the bags onto the table. Showing your big brother how many kinds of treats you bought him. You mostly came around his birthday so it would be extra special. Other times you came randomly.
"Hehe, what is that supposed to be?"
"Well obviously it's a dog!"
You don't really know the reason why he was in a place like this. You asked your parents one time and they just answered with 'he's just a bit sick honey, but I'm sure he'll be better soon enough.' You nodded and rolled with it, although every time you visited Michael seemed to be in great shape and he never looked ill once. You just hoped whatever sickness they said he has will be gone soon, so you and Michael can play together for as long as you want in your home!
"Looks more like a cow..."
"It's a black and white dog!"
You always knew your brother was a bit unique from the others. He never really spoke to anyone. Never really wanted to stand out, never really wanted to make friends, join in sports, bully, do after school activities... Not really anything. But he was quite special in his own way. You knew that in your heart, he was special because despite all of his odd habits he was kind. Kind to you. He never dreamt of hurting you, would never even think of hurting you. But one person he really did think of hurting was Ronnie. 'An asshole, a pathetic joke of a father' was how your dear beloved brother would describe your old father. You were just an infant around that time so you couldn't really have an opinion of it. But one thing you were sure of was if Michael was acting like this because of him, you are really glad you didn't have to deal with Ronnie.
"I think this one tastes the best."
"Really? I think that's second best to this one!"
You remember searching for your parents to ask if you could sleep with them instead because you had a bad dream, hearing concerned quiet, almost whispering sad tones. "I know but it would feel so wrong to leave him after all that poor boy has been through. They said he's been acting fairly well these past months I'm sure he'll be discharged eventually. Let's give it more time."
That time never seemed to come. The only times you ever made any sort of contact with Michael was only in the hospital. You could tell he was getting so sick of it too. Discussing with you that every year he spends here the more irritated he gets, violent thoughts and getting more prone to anger.
He looks at you,
"I would never to anything like that to you though. Everything is way better with you." You know he won't. Your brother was the best.
"What!? What do the hell do you mean you want to keep her as a patient!?" Your mother said fiercely with confusion at the doctor's suggestion.
"Like I said Mrs. L/n, Y/n and Michael have a strong bond and brings out something in him that nothing else can. I think y/n may be able to help Michael with his pro-"
"No way...! You're not keeping our daughter in a place like this, she's just a small child-!" Your mother further protest.
"I know this may be a hard decision but-"
"I'm sorry Dr. Loomis, but we will not allow you to keep our daughter in an insane asylum." Your father speaks.
".... Very well then. But I'm afraid we cannot allow you to visit anymore."
"What!? You said yourself y/n and Michael have a strong bond together, why would you do this!?" Your mother can't contain her emotions anymore.
"I'm sorry Mrs and Mr. L/n."
Knowing deep inside her heart that she won't be getting shit from this doctor, asks for a simple request.
"Fine... But can we say goodbye to him? We can't just disappear without saying anything."
"You will may. Please arrive tomorrow at 7 am"
"Alright.. Thank you Dr. Loomis" Your father's tone is flat. But he can't start a scene.
"What? What do you mean we can't see him anymore after this?" The panic and confusion clear in your voice.
"I'm sorry honey... Something happened... And-"
"Noo! I can't leave Michael! I can't leave him! Do you know how lonely he gets?" Your shoulders get gripped on by your father.
"Y/n, behave yourself. I know this is so sudden but this is your last time with him so please, try not to be too upset."
You couldn't find the words to speak or talk back.
"What...?" The tension coming from you was already a bit dull and heavy when you walked in the room. Immediately contrasting with your brother's earlier energy. His worried eyes turning into ones of disbelief and shock. You can't come to yourself to look at him in his eyes, especially after those times where you promised to never leave or go away from each other for more than a year.
You felt the familiar stinging pain creeping up to your eyes and nose. Liquid forming and ready to spill, you think he couldn't be anymore upset than you since he wasn't saying anything.
"Oh my, I guess you won't be seeing each other anymo-" The nurse who were near the both of you, cut her sentence short and was instead now filled with the gurgling choked attempted screams. Your brain wasn't able to fully process what in the world you were witnessing. Blood spewed from her mouth.
You shrieked, "MICHAEL!!" He had stabbed her in the throat with the fork he was given with his lunch – you stared at him in horror and silence. Your sweet brother, what's wrong with him?
"Michael stop that!" You cried out and tried to pull him when he started choking the nurse. You wanted him to take that mask off, to be able to properly see his face, look at him in the eyes and ask him - "What has gotten to you?" You're sure you already know the answer. He hates this place. But at the same time you wish he would properly communicate with you.
He's panting. His dirty blonde hair is a mess, cascading down his mask and his gaze refused to look towards your direction. He doesn't speak. Neither of you do.
The silence breaks when a bunch of security guards come barging in – one restraining Michael by the arms, one crouching down to the nurse who you know is between the thin line of living and dead. And another pulling you away. Everything seemed to blur and slow down. You watched helplessly as Michael thrashed and screamed – although you couldn't hear it. You couldn't hear anything. Just panic.
It's a year later. Halloween. Again.
Michael held hope. You always had him hold onto hope when he couldn't feel like everything else was doomed. He was a nervous and anxious wreck – creating more masks to cope with the stress. 'Reader will come back.' 'She would never leave me.' 'She'll come back.. And I'll get to see her again..'
Right now he was nervously waiting for the guards or Loomis or whatever to come in and tell him the words he's been echoing in his head for so long 'Someone is here to see you' or more preferably, 'Reader'. Is all he needed to hear to settle the churning in his stomach and the uneasiness in his gut. It's Halloween. You will come back and see him.
You have to.
And he sits hours upon hours in his chair. Breakfast rolls, he goes back. Lunch comes around, he goes back to his cell. Dinner arrives... The moment he steps inside his horrible fucking containment he's seething with rage, frustration and anger.
This is all Loomis's fault! He's the reason behind all this! The reason he can't be with you, his angel sister... That asshole! His hands grip onto his hair while gritting his teeth before he slowly starts breaking down into tears.
Why...? Why can't he just go home to you? If it wasn't for Ronnie, Judith and her disgusting boyfriend none of this would have happened! He doesn't want to be here anymore!
After a while he calms down. His breathing ragged and rough but he considerably calmed down. He promises to himself and you, that when the right time comes. He'll break out of this hell hole and come to you. Have his sister by his side once again.
15 years later, October 30th
You were now in your mid twenties. Lying on your couch as you watch some cheesy horror movie. Yawning as your eyelids began to feel heavy.
15 years later and you still haven't forgotten about your Michael. You heard that normally your brain represses traumatic memories to protect yourself but for some odd reason you can't seem to forget your brother even if you tried. And some part of you doesn't want to. In your mind, he was still your big brother who loves and cared for you deeply.
You close your eyes, snuggling further into the couch cushion. You missed him – and you wonder if he still thinks about you sometimes too. Knife gripped tightly in his hand yet is willing to serve no purpose when it comes to you.
And yes, he does. He stood outside of the front door, peeking at you through the window through the slits of the mask. 60% of his thoughts are run by murder and instincts and the other 40% is run by you. He wants nothing more than to sit next to you on the couch, watch your reaction to him finally coming back home.
You'd be happy to see him, wouldn't you?
His hand grasps on the doorknob. You'd be happy to see him again.. Surely you wouldn't mind if he breaks the doorknob to come in?
'Please... Don't leave me again..' He thinks as he twists the doorknob with great strength, noticing how your figure immediately shot up from the couch.
Okay so I was watching heathers and I had an idea for Freddy x reader. Reader has an absolute dickhead in their family who treats her like crap and who she's dreamed about the death of many times and Freddy's been watching her through her dreams and kills the person.
"I prayed for the death of Heather Chandler many times. I felt bad every time but I kept doing it anyway. Now I know you understood everything."
I haven't watched heathers so I'm sorry if I got anything wrong. Dreaming freedom, anyone? And btw, Heather doesn't die by chemical poisoning here.
Warnings: mention of death and choking, stabbing, gore, weight shaming on Chandler's part, Reader's kind of psychotic, Freddy is a perv, OOC can't write freddy to save my life. Shit writing.
Relationship: romantic (I think?) Platonic romantic.
Freddy Krueger x reader!
You weren't too fond of the narcissistic manipulative and cruel bitch of a person in your family named "heather chandler"
You couldn't help but dream about her dying tragically or some other way. You felt kinda guilty but she always thought she was better than everyone else and didn't even try hiding it from anyone. She's aware and that's what pisses you off even more.
Your guilt would vanish temporarily every time she does a dick move on you. It got so bad to the point you would pray to whatever higher being is up there that she would just die already, you didn't care how or when.
This was especially amusing to the Freddy Krueger. He has never seen a person hate someone this bad before, it got him wondering what the hell this person had done to die so many times in your dreams.
"Oh y/n, it's been so long." The blond he knew as Heather, said. "It seems you've... Put on/off so much more weight than last time I've seen you, you look fine though." She tried to make it sound like she was reassuring you. Inevitably it pissed you off.
"Hah-" Something got stuck in her throat as she put a spoon of something into her mouth. She made gagging noises while holding her throat, unable to cough it out her face turned red and blue as she panicked.
"Heather are you okay!?" Her posse came up to her side, one of them hitting her back to get rid of the piece of food in her esophagus but to no avail.
You watched in silence as everything seems to slow down and blur, eyes focused on the dying body of your relative. Heather's panicked eyes as she stared into yours, her face full of fear and blue with her veins popping out at her temple.
Freddy was watching the scene with you, (not that you knew) this was however one of the more tame deaths, he saw some brutal scenes. It was more than enough evidence to hint that Heather treated you like absolute shit. And she did and said things much worse than your weight.
Inevitably Freddy became fascinated with you this way. It was a level of disturbingly sexy as he would describe it. A girl almost as blood thirsty as him. (only towards one person but you get the point) Now looking forward towards night time more than ever, I mean, sure he's still haunting kids in their dreams and killing them but it's special when he's into yours. Occasionally acting as some background character or one of Heather's little minions while watching what kind of death you're dreaming about this time.
You stepped into her house, pulling out a knife from one of her kitchen drawers. And stepping up into her bedroom – you opened the door and hid your hands behind you.
"Good morning, Heather." You greeted with a smile, which caused Heather to immediately rouse from her sleep and sit up quickly.
"Reader... How the hell did you get in here?"
"Heather, I wanna apologize."
"Oh do you?" She retorted sarcastically.
"Again, how did you get in he-"
"No, not for that." You cut her off.
Before Heather could question you for the third time, you moved your hand from your back to your side – revealing the knife you had in your hand earlier. Causing her to become alerted.
"Reader, what do you think you're doing?" She asked and backed into her bed further. You approached quickly and held onto her arm – then you swiftly stabbed the knife into her chest, ripping through her night shirt, watching her scream as blood immediately flowed out flawlessly and down onto her lap and bed. Pulling out the knife and stabbing it back in again until blood travelled up to her throat from the inside and started choking on it. A big hole in the middle of her chest, if you wanted to you could reach in and grab her literal heart.
After a while both you and Heather C were covered in blood. She was dead though obviously, she laid lifeless on her bed with a dark river of red from her mouth as the cherry on top along with the bloodbath on her bed. Freddy watched the whole scene with a twisted sense of amusement and an attraction towards you stronger than ever. Seeing you covered in blood like that was arousing him more than he thought it would.
Freddy sighed and decided with a smirk that he would fulfill your wish and kill Heather for you. Of course, he leaves traces on you secretly to watch you outside of your dreams. He snickers to himself every time he catches you actually praying for Chandler to die. God, you hated her guts in every sense of the words. And to him it was the most hilarious thing ever. He felt you slowly starting to wake up.
A few days later at school, you heard from your friends that Chandler died. Actually died.
Apparently she was found dead in her bed with claw marks on her body, along with a deep hole in her chest. Similar to the one you had in your dream... You felt both a rush of nervousness and guilt. For some reason you felt like it was your fault she died. But it wasn't, how could it? She died in her 'sleep mysteriously'. You had nothing to do with this.
With that you went to bed that night peacefully. No more dreaming or praying for the death of Heather C, as she was finally gone.
Freddy had no plans of letting you sleep peacefully.
As you woke up, (in your sleep) you sat up and looked at the figure a few feet away from your bed. A man.. Burnt-through the-skin man wearing a fedora hat, with metal claws and... Christmas themed shirt?
"Are you happy, Reader?" The man asked, his voice was gravely deep and distorted.
"Happy for what?"
"That your worst enemy, Heather fucking Chandler is dead."
"Oh..." Man, this is a weird dream isn't it? You thought. And you swore the man smirked wider. "Yes, I am quite happy about it-"
"I promise you, dear, this is no ordinary dream."
"Wait what."
"And you'll be very happy to hear that i killed that bitch for you. Aren't you glad? Reader." He strided towards you.
"Why don't you thank me?"
You only looked at him in silence, kind of scared and suspicious.
"What, don't believe me?" He scoffed and leaned in, causing you to back away. But you hit the wall. (Or the edge of your bed.) He leaned in close, his breath fanning against your face as his eyes bore holes into yours. Then the moment he licked your face you immediately screamed and woke up. You looked at the window, it was around 4 am and the sky was just now turning blue.
You sat up straight and huffed, rubbing your cheek and you reeled when you realized it was slimy and wet. Wait, it was wet?
"Believe me now?" The same distorted voice asked. You snapped your head towards the direction of the voice. The man was now leaning against your drawer, his hat covering part of his face except for that shit eating grin.
"Please tell me I'm dreaming, or I'm going insane."
"You're not."
You only sighed and got out of your bed, slipping on your inside shoes.
"You really killed Chandler?" Your question was met with a smug nod.
"I did. Took my time as well, she was a real asshole I tell ya. But you already know that all too well don't you? want me to tell you her last words?"
"No that's... Fine." Freddy snickered at your response.
You stared out the window. "I prayed for the death of Heather Chandler many times. I felt bad many times but I kept doing it anyway. Now I know you understood everything."
He only smiled wickedly. "I hope you find more people that you hold a grudge again. I wanna see what more sick ideas you can come up with."
You groaned softly. Is this going to be a permanent thing?
"Yes, it will."
You frowned at him. Fuck, he can read your mind?
"Yes... I can." You rolled your eyes at his response. How annoying.
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