Slashers x Shy/Clingy Reader.
I have this short Halloween idea where my favorite slashers are featured. The reader is extra clingy before they go off to do their work, craving more affection than they’re already getting.
(Also, my work for Julian Dillinger in TRON is still in progress. I’ve been really busy with online school and other things, so it might take me a bit more time.)
English isn’t my first language, so I really hope you enjoy it! If you notice any grammar mistakes or anything that sounds off, please let me know — I’d be happy to correct them.
Michael would be the type to pretend he wasn’t bothered — or worse, to ignore you completely while you tried everything to get his attention. You had agreed to let him do his thing, and he’d promised that when the time was right, he’d let you. But today clearly wasn’t that time, not with the long sigh he exhaled while cleaning his knife.
“Sweetheart, Halloween’s just a few hours away. You already got your monthly surprise. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?”
Of course he did. The way you walked was proof enough, and you could almost feel his smirk through the mask. Even sitting on his lap to feed him afterward had been hard work.
“Having trouble sitting?” he teased, his tone laced with mockery.
You rolled your eyes, your lips forming a pout — one that didn’t go unnoticed. He lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth, stealing a kiss or two before his fingers began to massage your waist, gripping it gently.
“Look at you, clinging all over me. Keep this up, and my job won’t even last until midnight.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly. Typical Michael.
You still remembered how long it had taken for both of you to open up to each other. It had all started when you were his neighbor, leaving meals at his door to make sure he was eating. Everyone else still believed in the Boogeyman — that he was nothing but a story — but you knew better. You knew him.
“I can’t help it,” you said with a soft smile, shrugging as you took a bite from your plate. “You take care of me too well.”
Before you knew it, Michael’s lips were trailing down to the crook of your neck, pulling a quiet chuckle from your throat.
He hushed you before you could finish, his voice low and rough. “Shh. I wanna hear that sweet voice before I go.”
A soft moan escaped before you could stop it. Your eyelids grew heavy, your grip on the fork loosening until it slipped from your hand and landed quietly on the plate. He knew exactly what he was doing. But before he could go any further, a sudden knock at the door and cheerful voices interrupted.
“So soon?” you whispered, breathless. Whatever he had planned for the night was enough to make him skip dinner — something you noticed as soon as he pulled away, leaving you flushed and dazed.
“What about dinner?” you murmured, your cheeks warming as he stood, knife in hand, and leaned down for one last kiss.
You watched him slip out through the back door. Your job now was simple: hand out candy and keep the neighbors entertained. He paused at the doorway for a moment, his gaze locking on you — a silent command in the way his eyes drifted down your thighs.
“Don’t start the fun without me, sweetheart.”
You swallowed hard and nodded, pressing your legs together as his words lingered in your mind.
Billy, of all people, wasn’t big on PDA, at least not unless it was a killing night. Sure, he’d indulge you when you were needy enough for him to make you shut up, but otherwise? Movie nights were your thing. A small slice of normalcy between chaos.
With Stu playing Ghostface for the first half of the night, Billy had time to stay with you at your parents’ house, Chainsaw Massacre flickering on the TV, popcorn bowls half-empty between you. Billy scoffed at the screen as another victim ran for her life. “See, babe? That’s why it’s important to take notes. Not just get inspired. Pulling a move or two from these iconic slashers isn’t bad, but at least ours don’t scream and cry like that.”
You only half listened, which, of course, he noticed. For someone who didn’t show empathy, Billy always caught on fast when your attention drifted.
“You’re not listening to me,” he muttered.
Blinking, you shifted closer on the couch, but just as you did, he leaned away, sulking. Typical Billy, brooding came naturally to him. It made you laugh softly. “It’s not funny,” he snapped.
“For someone who knows how to sway his victims, you sure don’t know how to sway your girlfriend into a real movie night,” you teased.
Billy arched a brow. “What do you mean? We’re doing that right now.”
You sighed. “Not when you keep ranting about how your victims should’ve survived. It’s starting to sound pathetic.” He almost looked offended, almost before rolling his eyes. “Maybe…”
You trailed your fingers slowly along his thigh. Even if he wanted to ignore you, that touch made him pause, his attention reluctantly fixed.
“Maybe we could arrange something,” you whispered. “If Mister ‘Killer Mastermind’ here wants to recreate a movie scene while Stu’s out doing the dirty work.”
That got him. His gaze sharpened, curiosity flaring instantly. Sure, he didn’t mind cuddling, you were the one who suggested it. But not being out there with Stu always left him restless. A little “fun” might cure that itch. “I’m all ears,” he said, voice low, leaning in until his fingers found their way into your hair. You could feel his restraint slipping, the temptation heavy in his breath.
“Maybe we could recreate a scene or two,” you suggested, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Just to… kill time. Stu won’t mind, right? Plus, it’d help you burn off some of that tension. You look so wound up.”
Your hands slid over his shoulders, massaging gently. He exhaled through his nose, the weight in his stare darkening. You weren’t wrong — whatever he needed, it wasn’t just cuddling. “Tell me, princess…” His tone dropped, teasing but dangerous. “You wanna be in the sequel?” That one line sent a shiver down your spine — and the smirk that followed was pure Billy Loomis. “Then you better hide.”
Will Graham and Hannibal:
It was late that night. You had barely gotten the amount of rest Hannibal expected you to have, though expected was far too kind of a word. Ordered was far more fitting. During your exam season, sleep was a luxury you couldn’t afford, let alone time to spend with the two of them. It pained both Hannibal and Will to see you that way, something Jack had noticed first during your internship with Will.
You had dreamed of joining the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit, of understanding killers, empathizing with them, and one day teaching at the Academy where Will himself once lectured. You were one of the best students in class. Will didn’t even need to meet his students to know who stood out. When Hannibal invited you for dinner that first evening, it had reminded Will of that same lost freshman who used to sit quietly at the back of his lectures.
But your brilliance came with a warning, one that left both men uneasy. Especially that night at dinner. You had barely touched your food, your eyes heavy as you tried to stay awake during what was supposed to be an important meal. Hannibal noticed first, the faintest trace of disappointment showing in his expression. When you glanced at Will, his gaze showed the opposite. Understanding, with just a hint of concern.
“Come,” Hannibal said softly, standing. “I’ll escort you to bed. You can eat once you wake. Both Will and I will stay for the night. Isn’t that right, Will?”
Will blinked, slightly caught off guard before rising as well. “Yeah,” he said, helping you up gently. “Come on, princess. Bedtime.”
“But, but…” you tried, your voice drowsy.
Hannibal shook his head. “No buts. Come now.”
By the time you reached your bedroom, your body collapsed onto the bed. A satisfied sigh slipped from your lips, leaving the two men to quietly make sure you were comfortable. A soft chuckle escaped from Will, prompting Hannibal to raise an eyebrow.
“What’s amusing?” Hannibal asked.
Will shrugged. “I was just thinking that if she’s working this hard, maybe I should have a word with her teacher.”
“And?” Hannibal asked, clearly growing impatient with small talk.
“Well,” Will said with a faint smile, “I am the teacher. Or at least, I used to be.”
“Not anymore,” you murmured faintly from your pillow, half-asleep. “Now it’s some random guy grading my work with Jack. And he doesn’t mind marking me wrong when one of you decides to keep me up for ‘me time.’”
Will laughed quietly. Hannibal said nothing, which made Will frown slightly. His silence always meant something was turning in his mind, and it rarely ended well for whoever caused it.
“I’ll stay with her,” Will said quickly, sensing the tension. “You can go handle whatever it is you’re planning.”
Hannibal nodded once. “I have some business to attend to.”
Will sighed. He knew that tone. He knew exactly what kind of business Hannibal meant. Once he was sure you were half-asleep again, he leaned in closer. “Look, I know the guy,” he whispered. “He’s not that bad. Maybe don’t turn him into a dish by tomorrow night?”
Hannibal didn’t respond right away, only exhaled softly. “Perhaps just a few bruises then,” he said, his voice calm. “Now stay with her. Feed her dinner when she wakes. Put her to bed before I return.”
Later that night, Will kept his word. You had woken briefly and insisted on eating beside him on the couch instead of in bed. He gave in easily. That pout of yours always managed to win. You fell asleep curled against him, his arm resting lightly around your shoulders as the room grew quiet.
When Hannibal finally returned, it was no surprise. What caught Will’s attention was the faint smear of blood on his shirt and the way he calmly wiped his lips clean before setting his coat aside.
Will tilted his head with a knowing smirk and whispered softly so as not to wake you. “I told you, just a few punches.”
“I couldn’t help,” he shrugged innocently but quite obviously and walked towards your sleeping body with a soft smile, leaning to press a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sleep well, love. Your studies won’t be as hard anymore.”
