content warnings; handjob, tit sucking, subby brahms, sort of dacryphilia, lots of pet names (as usual), mentions of breastfeeding
notes; would love to do a longer version of this in the future, or anything with brahms really as he’s my baby
kinktober/flufftober masterlist
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you’d woken up in the middle of the night to brahms stood by your bedside, soft moonlight casting over him as his hands fisted over the wool of his cardigan.
“what’s wrong, baby,” you cooed, lifting your arms to encourage him to join you.
he quickly clambered onto you, dropping down and shoving his face into your chest, clinging to your nightdress with a muffled whine. only when you shifted beneath him did you realise why he’d come to you, his arousal evident from the way it pressed into your thigh.
“oh, honey, do y’need some help?”
he nodded against you, mask digging into your skin. you gently guided him into sitting up, kneeling on the bed before you, hands sat patiently on the tops of his thighs, attention locked on you.
he watched intently as you pulled your nightgown over your head, leaving you completely bare. his eyes roamed over you, letting out a pathetic whimper at the sight of you. he was just as enamoured by your body as he was the first time he’d seen you, fingers twitching against his legs in an effort to hold back his touches, desperate to please you, awaiting your instructions.
shifting forwards, your hands cupped his face, fingers slowly curling underneath the edges of his mask, giving him plenty of warning before you removed it, revealing his scarred skin, eyes glistening with desperate tears.
you leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his, mouths moving together, a slow swipe of your tongue before he let you in, tongues swirling together as he gave in to his desires, tugging you into him and hands clutching tightly at you.
you pulled away, giggling when he tried to follow your lips, never wanting to separate. his brow furrowed, crocodile tears finally spilling over with his cry of complaint, head tilting in confusion when you tug at his shirt.
“gotta take these off, brahmsy. can’t help you otherwise,”
he rushed to strip off, and you internally cringe at the fabric tearing in his hastiness. but, his proud expression calms you, hopeful for your approval.
“good boy, baby. c’mere, let’s lay down,”
he beams, crawling over to you before curling up into your side, head resting on your tit as he grasped at you, hips involuntarily bucking up when his bare cock grazes your hip, pre trickling out his slit, clear fluid smearing over your skin.
“please, touch,” he cried, burying his face into you, nuzzling your nipple.
“shh, okay brahmsy, been so good for me,”
you ran a finger down the tender skin of his cock, chuckling to yourself when his hips bucked again, now mouthing at your tit, slow, open-mouth kisses and swipes of his tongue.
you melt when he lets out a particularly pitiful mewl, clinging to your body, hands gripping at you almost painfully, far too horny to be able to think properly.
finally wrapping your hand around him, you pumped your fist, thumb occasionally swiping over his head. he thrusted into your touch, strings of whimpers and breathy moans tumbling from his parted lips.
with your free hand, you guided your nipple into his mouth, gasping when he latched on immediately, suckling frantically as if worried that you’d pull away, and this would be the last time he ever got to feel your skin under his tongue. he suckled like he thought that if he tried hard enough, that your sweet milk would spill into his mouth, warm fluid pooling in his mouth, small amounts escaping and trickling down his chin.
you could feel slick collecting between your legs, hot cunt throbbing from the feel of his mouth and the way he cried out, sending vibrations through you.
having already been so pent up, both from waiting for you to wake up, and your incessant teasing, brahms’ high was already fast approaching, hips bucking wildly into your fist, pleasure causing his legs to tremble next to you.
you felt his teeth graze you, before he bit into the soft flesh of your tit, overwhelmed with pleasure. his tongue swiped over the indents of his teeth, soothing the broken skin with an apologetic whine.
he flicked his gaze up to you, eyes burning from the effort as he waited for your permission, trying his best to hold back from cumming too soon. you smiled down at him warmly, “cum for me, sweet boy.”
his eyes scrunched shut, stomach tensing before his head fell back, mouth agape as he finally let go with a drawn out moan. pearly cum spurted from his tip, splattering over the two of you as you slowed your movements, elongating out his orgasm.
he went limp in your arms, thoroughly mollified and smiling dreamily after being fully emptied. he sighed sleepily, and you settled for wiping your cum covered hand on the sheets, knowing that he’d be dead weight until at least tomorrow morning.
you stroked over his sweat-damp hair, watching him as he began to fall asleep, still clutching your body tightly against his.
you loved that he had only ever been yours, that he had never felt someone else’s loving touch, had never cum from somebody else’s hand. he had only ever needed you, hadn’t loved anyone else and never wanted to.
he was yours and only yours. you were just as obsessed with him, as he was you.
You were always considered a weird kid. You knew that. People whispered,they thought you didn't hear them. But you always did. Everytime. You were and still are a great listener. People just don't know you are.
You met Brahms when you two were kids. Your mother worked full time for the Heelshires as a maid and couldn't afford a nanny for you,so she brought you along and let you play with Brahms. At first you didn't want to. Kids your age never liked you,and the feeling was mutual. They said you were too quiet,too serious,too much like an adult. You thought they were too loud,too immature,just too much. You hate it when people are loud,and it shows. You sometimes scare the other children and the adults watching them. If they're being too loud,you zone out completely to eliminate the sounds. One time you didn't move an inch for over two hours after a kid kept screaming because he feel and hurt his knee. No matter how much people called and shook you,you simply didn't respond. You didn't even seem to be there. After that,your mother stopped taking you to play with others.
But Brahms? He was different. He had clear routines and plans. He didn't scream much. He didn't want to go play outside. He didn't even need you to talk. Sometimes,you two simply sat on the couch,listening to his music,unmoving. You love it. He's so different,so weird,just like you. You don't feel like you have to be someone you're not around him.
The day he died was the first day in years you cried. You had always been a quiet,calm kid. Even as a baby,you hardly made a sound. Your mother initially thought you were mute,until you started actually talking. Neutral,even,calm voice ever since you were able to form words. Never above a loud whisper.
That day,you screamed. You screamed until your throat was raw,tears falling out of your eyes. You screamed and cried until you threw up,until your mother had to phisically stop you from ripping the skin of your cheeks off of your face,until you passed out in her arms.
You never found anyone like Brahms. And you never cried like that again.
Your mother was fired a few weeks after the fire,not without a large amount of money to thank her for years of hard work. She used it to move away from the village near the Heelshire's mansion. Bought a nice house in the city and dragged you with her. She ignored you when you begged her not to take you away,to let you stay with Brahms. She said you needed to 'move on'. To find someone else,to get over Brahms' death. That she wouldn't let your attachent to that dead boy get in the way of your shared life.
You never forgave her for that.
Years later,you came back. Your mother died,and she still has some properties in the old village that you needed to see and possibly sell. After visiting your childood home,you started wandering aimlessy. You often did,when you get lost in your own thoughts. People used to say that you looked like a lost soul,a ghost. They still do. You still hear them. Even when they're whispering.
Your legs instinctively take the most familiar road,the one you had walked so many times because your mother couldn't afford fuel for the car,and was forced to go to work on foot. You soon found yourself in front of the Heelshire's mansion. It was exactly like you remembered it,down the smallest details. You came to a stop soon enough,just staring blankly at the building. You don't know how much time has passed until Mr. Heelshire found you. He didn't recognize you at first,and told you this was private property. He was still talking when you turned around and he noticed your eyes. The empty,cold and calculating look in them that you had ever since you were a kid and that never failed to make people uncomfortable. He recognized it. Of course he did. It still made him shiver slightly and take an uneasy step back. You smiled. He knew it was supposed to be friendly,but your smile were always just a bit too perfect,like they were studied,an act perfected over the years instead of a show of emotion. "Hello Mr. Heelshire,it has been a while." You say,your tone as polite as ever. He nodded and held out a hand. You shook it with your gloves still on. As you two were making the usual,awkard small talks people do when they haven't seen eachoter in a long time,you noticed something. A curtain moving,a figure dissapearing from behind a window. You didn't flinch,but you chose to keep that in mind. Especially since you had seen Mrs. Heelshire trought the kitchen window. It couldn't be her. Then who...
Your thoughts were interrupted as Mrs. Heelshire quickly got out of the house,walking towards you. She really got old since the last time you saw her. She approaches with a smile but you notice just how tight it looks,and how hurried she sounds as she invites you inside. You nod,staying as polite as you can. You all walk inside and she makes some tea. "So tell me dear,where have you been all this time? We haven't heard from you in years." She says,but as you answer,she seems to barely listen to you. You had never seen her look so hurried. Perphas she was just getting old. But you had a feeling it was something more,especially with how she kept looking around...
"Oh well,I'm sure that you want to meet Brahms now! He missed you so much." She said,and your eyes actually widened at that. "Isn't he..." you stop yourself before continuing and instead just nod and follow the woman to the second floor. The house is exactly like you remember it. Nothing changed,as if time had frozen around the building to preserve its beauty. You felt a mix of anxiety and something akin to hope. Was it possible that Brahms was somehow still alive? Your mother didn't let you go to the funeral,so you never saw his body. Maybe,just maybe...
Your hopes were shattered as you saw Mrs. Heelshire picking up a porcellain doll. It looks exactly like Brahms when he was a kid. Except maybe the eyes. Brahms' eyes were darker. You always loved his eyes. Everyone found them as unsettling as your constantly cold look. It made you feel...less weird. The woman starts talking to the doll as if it really is your childood best friend. You sigh but say nothing. You shouldn't have hoped for anything. Of course Brahms wasn't alive,what a dumb thought... It was just his parents' delusions. You couldn't blame them,of course. Losing a child must be horrible,and it obviously took a tool on their mental healt. But you couldn't help the ugly feeling you felt in your chest. They illuded you,made you hope your Brahms was alive,only to shatter your heart once more. You don't let it show thought. You're not that selfish.
You made yourself snap out of it when she started talking again. "You know,we were looking for a nanny. But Brahms missed you so much ever since you moved away...maybe you could take the job? I'm sure he would love to be friends with you once more." She said,smiling at you. It was a polite smile,one you recognized as fake. She was clearly desperate. You were gonna reject her offer when you remembered the figure you had seen for a second moving away from the window. Tall,masculine,broad... you wonder who it could be. You start to question what is happening here. The figure,the doll,the strange behaviour of Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire...
You slowly nodded. Her face lit up. "Great then. Come with me,I'll show you the rules. I'm sure Brahms will be extremely excited to see you once again!" You follow her,giving one last look around the room. You get the sensation that someone is watching you.
What have you gotten yourself into?
I'll make a part two soon no worries. This might become a multi-chapter long fic
Can you do a fic where Rusty is comforting crying reader and cuddling them
Warning: This oneshot has suggestions of intentions, specifically Rusty’s original intent with the reader. They are not directly mentioned, but if you are familiar with this kind of topic, it will click for you. So if you aren't comfortable with that, I highly suggest that you do not read this one.
He'd be a bloody fool to not admit that he had noticed her dejected demeanour a few days ago, no matter how much the girl attempted to sculpt her expression to state otherwise. Looking ahead on the dead of night, alone with only his thoughts as company, as he every so often payed attention to the sounds of ten wheels moving in circle motions. He hasn't checked his flip phone like a paranoid father would have. After all that has occurred between them both, he has enough knowledge to know that his darling wouldn't do anything stupid. Maybe hurt herself unintentionally. Nonetheless, though, she was a logically accepting woman when she needed to be.
The lass had been his unwilling partner for two years, a woman that has her own morals that reflected reality and thus adapted to it as she grew. The first time he saw her, he did not expect her to be any different from the women he would occasionally see on his journeys throughout the highways of the west. What made her stand out wasn't the way she dressed or the way her her beauty shined through. It was how she acted when dire situations happened. The way she recognised her friends' mistakes, taking charge when the others lost their rationality, in addition to attempting a peaceful negotiation with him. That day, he could tell that the woman was frightened. She didn't even attempt to hide the fact that she was. She still, however, stood tall for the sake of everybody's survival. And for that, he knew he needed her to be alive a little bit longer.
Originally, he was planning on keeping her for funsies. As a lone man, having some company at times would be pleasant. It didn't matter in what sense since he needed one for any scenario possible. It wouldn't be easy at first, but since when was it? He was pleased to learn that she reacted differently than he had hoped, even when he was uncertain if it was something positive or not. She didn't question his motives and begged him to let her go. Instead, she attempted to be level-headed with him. There were so many moments which he noticed where she was reluctant, not once though did she ever fight back. Naturally, he assumed the reluctance came from her belief that anything bad would come about, so he never rushed her with her decisions. He isn't the most patient man in the world, and if she had been the type of female he usually encountered, he would have dragged her, as well as given her a lecture that she had no choice in the matter. But in that short period of time he began to learn about her, he realised that he wanted to have the girl at least like him to some accord.
His s/o liked her drinks in a natural, plant-based stimulant beverage containing caffeine, and L-theanine—an americano coffe was fine. That isn't what she enjoys to swallow though—and he learned that the easy way. By asking about it after reading her expression when she had sipped it. He thought it was interesting that she didn't deny the beverage when he gave it to her, the first conclusion he thought about the situation must have been that she didn't want to anger him because he wasted money on something she was picky about. The truth wasn't it. It was an easier answer. She simply did not mind it. Unless it actually disgusted her, she could consume anything. Which somehow relived him to hear, not that he really cared about her preferences, nonetheless, he didn't have to think about forcing her to eat anything for health reasons anymore.
At the end of the day, he did still care about making her happy, and in those moments, he knew, almost instinctively, how to please a woman. He could fix a leaky faucet, and he could carry her in the pouring rain if she ever was worried about her chlothes getting wet. Yet there were other kinds of intimacy he knew nothing about, the kind that required words instead of labour, hugs instead of headpats, and a patience that went beyond the quick fixes he was used to offering.
His own upbringing had never required him to be the comforter. He’d grown up in a household where emotions were practical, and thinking was done in old ways. When his mother fell ill, that's when the form of love he was used to started to fade away, and the only thing left was the masculine distant kind. Rusty Nail internalized that model; he learned to solve issues with solid steps, not with open hearts. The idea of sitting with someone’s tears felt as foreign to him as a city street without traffic.
Rusty nail could see the billboard to the town where his s/o was staying at, making him turn the wheel, including the blinker on so that he could be at the right lane. She’d taken a short break from the road, told him she wanted to stay and do some shopping, as well as having the excuse to desire being alone for a while. As much as he despised the idea of basically giving her the opportunity to escape, he understood the need to have her mental battery recharged. So he properly let her go for the seventh time since he met her.
The motel's neon sign flickered irregularly, and the parking lot was cluttered with travellers' waste, including empty Coke cans, newspapers, and an abandoned pram. He drew up to the curb, and the tires crunched against the pavement. The weight of the day rested on his shoulders like a thick blanket. He went outside, his boots thudding on the cracked concrete. He proceeded to approach the building, the hallway lights creating a pale glow that made everything appear clearer and more defined. The hallway was quiet, the railway is stained in places, and muffled footsteps could be heard from a few rooms, in addition to cicadas letting out their rhythmic high-pitched whine. He paused outside a door that had the number faded to a near‑invisibility. He took out the key he had gotten from the owner and raised his hand to turn the item, including the lock to open it.
The man barely stepped a foot in before he saw the woman that has been on his mind the whole day, with her eyes slightly red around the corners, she had no make-up on, indicating she hadn't perhaps gone out today. She had one of those nightgowns he had bought for her on his few stops. With how damp her hair was, she had probably slipped into the shower not that many hours ago. The sight of her vulnerability made his chest tighten in a way that wasn't exactly new. It was familiar, and he had experienced this a couple of times. It still didn't cease the fact that it was uncomfortable each case, and honestly, a little bit frightening. If he saw himself in a different perspective, he would have acted in various ways that was definitely not this. Cause he knows he could have handled it better. Nevertheless, it is what it is. With a beat of hesitation, Rusty nail stepped in, closing the door behind him softly.
“Hey,” his voice was more hoarse than he intended. “You okay?” A small upturn of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes appeared. “Not too bad,” she said, yet her voice cracked like a glass, making her gently cough to have her throat smoothern more. “Just a little tired, that’s all.” He moved a foot closer, not bothering taking off his shoes, unsure whether to sit beside her on the bed or to stay at a distance. He hummed in acknowledgement for a second, an awkward attempt to fill the silence. “You looked… upset earlier.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, fearing his own discomfort might spill over. “Is there something—” "Rusty, I—” she stopped, a breath hitching. Her eyes glanced away, searching the dimness of the room corner, then returning to him. “I didn’t want to worry you. I know you’ve been working hard. I just—” He unintentionally swallowed a bit of his saliva. “Don’t worry about me,” the words felt strange on his tongue. “You… you’re the one I worry about.”
The uprightness of that statement made his voice moderately fade. He could see the surprise flicker across her face; it was as if he had taken a package of cigarettes and threw it away somewhere in an area it wasn't supposed to go. He moved a step forward, his right hand—still uncertain—reaching out to gently touch her backhand. It was faint in the beginning, yet the more time moved on, it came to a point where he was squeezing it in a 'I'm here' manner. To say that the girl was confused must have been an understatement because she had no idea what to say to the crazed man.
“I… I didn’t think you’d care,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than a sigh. “You’re always such a… stonewaller. I thought I could handle it on my own.” He momentarily wiped the columella section with the back of his wrist in thought. Letting out a silent mumble despite his internal turmoil. “I’m not good at… the talking part,” he admitted, his tone earnest yet embarrassed. “But I can listen.” He looked down to his worn-out shoes, how the dirt had touched the carpet, as he then had his eyesight on her once more. “Talk to me? We can… we can just be.”
The sign of hesitation was there. The reason behind it was unknown. He wasn't that good of a mind reader. He was lucky enough that the female even had the bravery at times to tell him almost everything. Patience was all that was required. It was the biggest thing this woman needed. She was fortunate enough that Rusty put his quick temper aside to give her just that. He observed how she pulled her knees close to her chest. In an odd way, it reminded him that this woman had some amount of her inner child still within her. That was most likely why she spoke to him in such an open, guiltless way.
“I don’t mind being with you Rusty, it's just that...” She pondered a way to phrase it accurately, her voice steadier. “Sometimes, I tend to think a lot about the future, multiple scenarios. And with how negative my brain can be…” She trailed off, wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand. “I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand, and no matter how positive I try to be, I can’t get out of it.”
He only stared at her in response, trying to render his own experiences with his actions into something that could make sense of her emotional state. He dosen’t want to talk about himself. He only wants to give her good results. Maybe it wasn't right for her specifically, but it's the motto he has lived for all this long, and it worked great for him so far. So why wouldn't it be for her? “I… I suggest you stop doing that,” he said slowly, surprising himself. “Whenever I do something, uuhh... unethical, I try to focus on the present. If anybody keeps on with that sort of mindset, they'll drive themselves crazy. Maybe… maybe even go to the authorities to reveal their crimes. I've done so many messed up things that I can't afford to have regrets anymore. I know I'm going to hell. There's no doubt about that. Besides, if there does come a day where I do get caught. Just tell them that you're a victim, that's the truth, and that's how it's supposed to be. Keep moving, even when we’re not sure what’s ahead. I'm selfish like that, selfish enough to want my woman to survive a different future where nobody harms her for my choices.”
If he kept on stunning her like this, she might become a gapping fish. She wanted to say anything impactful as well, but what could she say other than the obvious? Nothing that wouldn't strain Rusty’s patience even more. So, instead, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, the gesture both tender and fragile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re… thank you for being here.”
Rusty's arm reflexively curled around her waist; in that moment, the rusted metal of his moniker seemed less important than the tenderness of his endeavour to be present. He reflected on the innumerable rest stops he'd made, the meals where he'd exchanged tired nods with strangers. He reflected about his woman, how she had become his unexpected destination, a location he had no idea how to traverse but was determined to find his way through. When the rain stopped and the first signs of the stars broke through the clouded sky, the female lifted her head, her eyes clearer than they had been in days.
“I think I can make it through this,” she said, her voice firmer. “Maybe not alone, though.” An unpolished grin reached his eyes. “We’ll get through it together,” he replied, his tone more confident than he felt. “I’ll keep my eyes on the road, and you… you keep me from driving into the ditch.” She weakly chuckled, a sound that understood exactly what he meant, in addition to accepting her fate even more because of the discussion. “Deal,” she muttered in a simple agreement that sounded bittersweet.
Rusty nail realised that he could be more than a man who knew how to please physically; he could be a man who learned, in the slow, uneasy way of a truck driver making a wrong turn and then correcting it, how to offer comfort—not with grand speeches or perfect timing, yes he may have done it this time. But he can't garauntee he will every single occasion. So he'll attempt with a simple, steady presence that told her, without saying anything, that she was not alone. Perhaps that was enough to begin polishing away the rust that had accumulated on his own heart for far too long.
Author’s note: I feel like this oneshot got more British as I wrote, which is actually a good thing, because then I'm not accidentally mixing up words from different regions. For anybody who's wondering, I do speak with a British accent because that's how I was taught in school. So if you think I spelt a word wrong, that's not it, I'm using the UK writing style.
So of course I have written a Brahms Heelshire fanfic! how could I not write about the adorable wall man 🤣 it's called “stay with me” it is a very short fic because I didn’t want to change too much, 9 chapters and 20,284 words, I did give this fic a happy ending because…well he deserves it 😂
"You take a job as a nanny for a seemingly normal couple, you can even look past the fact the child is actually a porcelain doll they had custom made after their son Brahms had died in a fire, it’s all going well till you notice the doll is moving and your things are going missing."
I'm always looking for feedback and constructive criticism on whatever I write, I'll never claim to be amazing at writing, dyslexic and I never wear my glasses 😂 so if you do give it a read and see a typo or anything please do comment on there or here and let me know! 🤗
poly!Billy Loomis & Stu Macher X easily distracted!reader | fluff | graphic descriptions of violence
Billy and Stu adore their boyfriend, so they keep an eye on him due to the fact that he has this odd but adorable tendency to get...distracted.
#1, PURPLE FLOWERS
"D'you believe in past lives?" Billy paused his rummaging and from behind his locker door he peered at his boyfriend, Stu, who was leaning on the row of lockers beside Billy's.
"What type of question is that? Ya' been smoking pot again?" his arms, already sore from last night's activities, pinched as he added the weight of the AP Biology textbook among the binders full of notes. He readjusted his grip, shutting the locker as Stu jerked his chin across the hall. Bumping their shoulders together as he mimicked Stu's pose, Billy's gaze followed Stu's to the windows that lead to the school's front yard.
There (Y/N) was, knees tucked under him and backpack forgotten by his side with his face in gentle awe at the flowers that had grown near one of the trees.
That would explain why you weren't in the hallways like your boyfriends were. You probably were on your way but caught a glimpse of those purple petals and simply could not resist yourself.
"I'm guessing that in his past life, he was a puppy" Stu chuckled. "Small attention span, ya' know? Gnawing on your ankles, trippin' over his widdle paws" Billy cocked a brow, a lopsided grin climbing his face at Stu's curled hands swiping at the air - like a puppy, he says. Billy thinks he looks like a lanky mantis shrimp.
"Does he know classes are about to start?" he asked and Stu laughed.
"S'he look like he does? Come on, let's collect our puppy and send him on his way" he all but cooed.
The taller of the two shouldered open the school doors, wincing as he'd inadvertently put pressure on a cut he'd received - also from last night's endeavours.
"What d'you think I was in my past life, Billy boy?" he let the question linger in the air as they came up behind (Y/N), who was none the wiser. He never got his answer, not that he minded, because (Y/N) had turned his attention to the murderous duo with a blinding smile that made the sun burn with jealousy as the winds ushered the clouds away like show curtains - it still paled in comparison to (Y/N)’s beauty.
“Classes are about to start” Billy put his back to the tree whilst Stu plopped himself next to (Y/N). “I know” bemoaned (Y/N) “but I saw these and they just reminded me of you two” he presented them with a mice-sized bouquet of fragile, dusty purple flowers with a deep vinyl colour in the centre, and meekly twirled it between his thumb and pointer fingers.
“We aren’t pretty like some dainty flower” Stu plucked it from (Y/N)’s hold, its petals tickling his boyfriend’s cheek as Stu tucked it by his ear. “But I am?” (Y/N) mused, squinting his eyes at Stu. Billy’s touch, which had always been cold, sent shivers as he placed his hand on (Y/N)’s head; “The prettiest little devil we’ve ever met”
The bell rang but the three boys stayed ever so enamoured with each other, more and more flowers decorating each other.
Everyone paid no mind as purple flowers kept falling from (Y/N) as he moved from class to class - though the nickname flower boy persisted for a few weeks despite how uncreative it was. (Y/N)’s boyfriends thought it was cute.
#2, COOL ROCK
In all honesty, Stu wondered why Billy had chosen this location as a date. He constitutes eating with a good movie, cuddling, making-out, and maybe some bed shaking sex as a good date not taking a walk through the Woodsboro woods.
But, it was nice.
The tests and quizzes…thank fuck this would be the final test for a good while before university rolls in. Well, that is if he aces it.
“Baby” he snaps out from his reveries and turns to see (E/C) coloured eyes with their eyebrows sloped in concern. “You went quiet, everything okay?” Billy halts from ahead, hands shoved in his pockets as he wonders why the two had lagged.
“Yeah, yeah” Stu’s rubs the back of his head and his shoulders droop as (Y/N)’s fingers slip in his hands.
“What’s up?” Billy inquired once they caught up. (Y/N) shakes his head, telling him not to worry too much as he reaches to hold Billy’s hands as well. “He thought he heard something” he soothed them both by rubbing his thumb over their lightly bruised knuckles. “Yeah?” Billy didn’t sound convinced and (Y/N) pursed his lips at him as they made eye-contact.
“Yeah, wolf or something…” Stu continued which made Billy eye him then glance around unsurely. (Y/N) snorted, rolling his eyes. People assumed Billy was the cool headed, suave, Cassanova. Which, to his credit, he was...sometimes. Meanwhile, people assume Stu was the airheaded, frantic, hyperactive comedy relief of your relationship.
They did not know how romantic Stu was, or how smart he was. His extrovertedness along with his bubbly attitude was often mistaken as some sort of weakness - if only they knew how terrifying it was how closely intergrated Ghostface was in Stu’s very soul.
How for Billy, he can hang the robe and mask in the closet. Despite how it peers from the darkness, creaks it open and makes the walls shake from its breathing when it demanded attention.
Stu? The line between him and the mask was a blurred line in the sand that he barely notices. He is Ghostface, with or without the mask.
He’s like…he’s like a…an…a…
There was a twinkle from the corner of (Y/N)’s eyes.
Your boyfriend’s were debating the existence of a wolf and mountain lion hybrid when you spotted the glimmering ‘gem’.
“After this, we’re getting something nice and warm, right?” Stu batted his lashes and Billy nodded, not quite registering the loss of weight and warmth from his left hand as he peeked at the treetops. “Yeah, might be good, it’s getting pretty cold lately” Stu allowed the satisfying crunches of the dead leaves on the forest floor to distract him from (Y/N)’s hand slipping away.
That and Stu’s anxiety of the uncertain future with Billy simultaneously unsure of how to bring the topic up himself. Thankfully, Stu unknowingly made a segway to the conversation for the perfect opening.
“Why’d you even drag us out here, Billy?” Stu whined, kicking a stick out of the way. Billy paused, sighing a bit and moving to bump their shoulders.
“You looked like you were about to damn near cry while staring at your textbook and my head was about to explode anyways, so was our (Y/N)’s. I figured a walk in the woods would help us” Stu realizes that it was more for him because Billy had been silently skimming through some English assignment while (Y/N) had been half-asleep on Stu’s bed. He pressed a kiss to Billy’s jaw, effectively making them pause as he fully held Billy’s face in his hands to kiss him.
He mumbled (Y/N)’s name into the kiss while the corners of his mouth lifting as he grasped Stu’ waist; “(Y/N) also promised me I’d get some kisses from both of my boys if I did as I was asked, he suggested it…” Stu wondered why he stopped midsentence but then he looked around, blood going cold as all he saw was trees and more trees.
“(Y/N)! Baby!” Stu called, interlacing his fingers with Billy as they called out for you. They weren’t too worried about scouring the woods for you as they dredge through here at night often - to evade curious eyes as they carried their equipment around - along with the fact that you couldn’t have possibly been that far.
“(Y/N), come on! Where are you, doll?” Billy called out, retracing their steps down the path as they attempted to spot their darling boyfriend.
“I’m here!” a voice came from behind an overturned tree, the two raced over and blinked owlishly as (Y/N) held up his palm to show them -
“A rock?” Billy brushed his bangs back, holding it in his hand as he turned it around. He even held it up to catch the light, it twinkled shyly under (Y/N)’s lovers gaze.
“It’s a pretty rock! It’s shiny!” he defended as he rose from his knees, dusting the dirt away from his (insert bottom attire).
“You seriously let go of our hands for a rock, baby?” (Y/N) pouted as Stu pulled him into his side, pressing a kiss to his temple all while Billy continued to inspect the rock. “Hey, quit it! I’ve never seen a rock as shiny as that, okay” he huffed, reaching for it while Billy evaded his attempts.
“No, no, answer his question” Billy ‘frowned’ and Stu giggled, “A rock over us?”
“You guys are assholes!” (Y/N) exclaimed making his boyfriends laugh with complete glee.
The shiny rock stayed on Stu’s desk, googly eyes glued on as it weighed down a note that read;
Don’t lose your head over the small stuff. You’ve got this, baby. We love you - (Y/N) + Billy ♡
#3, SHINY KEYS?
In all fairness, (Y/N) thought it was lovely how his boyfriends insist on either one of them holding his hand or both at the same time. But surely, they must not think he was that helpless. Call him crazy but clammy hands was not a cute thing to feel despite how nice of a gesture it was to be holding hands. He’d slipped away a few times, only a few! Nothing bad happened. If anything, most of the time, (Y/N) came back with trinkets!
Well, there was that one time when Stu was hosting a party to let loose and some guy’s cousin from a neighbouring high school had shoot his shot which ended with him getting practically beheaded with a hunting knife by two annoyed Ghostface’s a week or so later.
But, (Y/N) was completely fine!
“I am not that bad” he retorted for the fourth time and Billy simply squeezed their hand and kissed his temple.
“Don’t be a big baby about it”
“Yeah, you saying ya’ don’t like holding hands?” Stu swings their arms together and (Y/N)’s mouth twitches as he fights the urge to smile. “M’not a big baby, I’m a grown man!” a few heads turned towards the trio as they made their way down the street. “Yeah, because grown men yell that they’re grown men” Billy grunted as he was elbowed. “I will castrate you” (Y/N) hissed, “You like my dick too much to do that” he braced himself for another elbow but Stu’s gasp saved him from the wrath of his boyfriend.
“Dude, they opened up an ice cream and waffle place!” Stu tugged his boyfriends across the street, (Y/N) yelping as frantically made sure they weren’t going to become the first hand-holding trio to end up in the ER as some sort of human pretzel’s.
“Jesus, didn’t take long to replace that shitty old man’s shop” Billy muttered with a cruel smirk. The butcher who used to own the shop lot had been a mean asshole who often sold even older cuts of meat for a hefty price. He’d brag his family had practically been the first butchers in Woodsboro and how it was a piece of the town’s history when one bought his product.
You’d think with that as a selling point more people would’ve mourned when he ended up as a corpse, bled-out and hanging from the hook in some pig farmer’s barn. The brutality certaintly shocked everyone but the funeral service held for him had been a dreary affair, with only a handful of people.
“His kid sold it” (Y/N) said as he looked at the menu on the chalkboard sign propped next to the door, “Heard from his grandkid, ya’ know Brandon from theatre?” Billy nodded “Yeah, well, his grandpa was in debt so Brandon’s father decided to sell it”.
“Brandon is related to that geriatric bag of bones?” Stu laughed, clutching his stomach. His boyfriends joined. Well, to be far, the guy was the nicest person you could possibly meet so it was a jarring surprise to know he is related to such a grumpy man.
“Think we did him a favour” Billy curled an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder with his other placed on his hip. “When Christmas rolls around, I’m betting he’ll get some extra shit out of pity” he continued while Stu moved forward to peek inside the store.
A few familiar faces stuck out to him, they waved in recognition and he glanced at Billy and (Y/N) to gesture for them to head in. Shrrugging, they went along. Stu was the most extroverted - a natural people’s person. It wasn’t unusual for him to be pulled aside to chat with someone. Neither Billy nor (Y/N) minded, especially in this case seeing as they could squeeze in some dessert.
A group of people walked towards the entrance as the three walked in, a gasp of Stu’s name making traffic stop.
Truth be told, Billy had thought he had him leashed to him by his hand alone but by the time the group of school mates had passed through the threshold, he was not there.
Cue the usual song and dance of the lovers heads swivelling and eyes darting to catch a glimpse of (Y/N).
Stu motioned for his friends to wait as he stepped out fully and called out (Y/N)’s name.
“Stu, I’m here!” came the sheepish reply, there he stood in front of a neighbouring store. Their shoulders sagged in relief, lips pursed endearingly as they walked to stand on either side of him.
It was an antique store. Billy swore he could smell it through the display glass, the dust and nostalgia of all sorts of trinkets that were once loved. (Y/N) lifted his hand and pointed to a clever showcase of keys on a string that decorated the top left and rights of the display window. Big, old and clunky but swaying ever so slightly from th ventilation within the store.
They twinkled under the light.
“Puppy,” Stu snickered which earned a head tilt from (Y/N) - it further cemented his claim.
#4, PIZZA
They did it. They fucking did it. They graduated. What better way to celebrate then a date at the new mall?
Stu had outdone his usual parties with the one he had thrown just a few days ago - the three of you were still finding confetti in all sorts of corners in Stu’s house - it was a real Gatsby. Even Billy had found himself dancing in the crowd, feverishly and unabashedly squeezing (Y/N) between Stu and himself.
Now, with that done and over with, it was time for a more private celebration.
(Y/N)’s boyfriends were keeping him in the centre, Stu’s hand around his waist while Billy held a few bags of dorm essentials. Last-minute shopping squeezed into a date, it was usual with the boy’s hectic life and double life.
“That movie sucked” Stu said, “fake blood never looked faker”. (Y/N) rolled his eyes, placing his head on Stu’s shoulder.
“Not everyone’s a murder and horror movie expert, Mr Ghostface” Stu narrowed his eyes at (Y/N)’s teasing tone, grip tightening. He knew what that particular nickname did to his lovers. Billy’s stomach grumbling made their eyes shoot towards his warm face.
“Hungry, baby?” (Y/N) received a sigh and nod. They continued walking as they wondered what they should eat. This mall was huge, and all sorts of restaurants were squeezed into every corner. But that was not where the problem lay.
“Why the fuck would I eat raw fish?” Stu scoffed “We might as well hit the pet store and ate the goldfish”.
“A California roll isn’t as fucking stupid as Italian food made from some American red neck” Billy snapped “I’m the one that’s fucking hungry, I should choose”.
“Nah, no - (Y/N), you choose”
A pause, the escalator they were on continued it’s task of sending the two boys to the upper level with their lover nowhere to be seen.
Unlike the times before, however, calling out your name and retracing their steps did not work. For the first time, they felt cold sweat erupt as they shared a glance. Sure, no real harm could have come to (Y/N), and he was full and well capable of protecting himself. But he was also someone that had walked into a pole, thrice.
“(Y/N)” Billy called out as he and Stu reached the third floor of the mall, nearing the kid’s arcades and all when he finally spotted (Y/N)…
Talking to someone in a brown bear mascot that had a top hat, bow tie and microphone in one of his hands.
“(Y/N)!” he perked up as his boyfriends came into view and waved them over. The man who wore the suit narrowed his eyes at the two, a flash of recognition in his eyes as they came by (Y/N)’s side.
“David, this is Billy and Stu, Billy and Stu, David” Billy paid little attention, just noticing the fact that one of the gloves David was supposed to wear was off and in his hand was a cell phone.
(Y/N)’s name typed down along with his number.
Stu slipped his hands around (Y/N)’s waist, slipping a hand up his shirt which he did little to react too - seemingly used to it.
David’s face fell, expression clear as day despite the shadows of the suit.
“He was talking about this deal they had!” (Y/N) chirped out, showing them the flyer with the establisments name written in a whimsical font.
FREDDY FAZBEAR’S GRAND OPENING!
“How’d you even find this place?” Billy took the flyer, feigning interest as he cocked a brow at David. Who, by the way, realized where he recognized (Y/N) from; he was the boyfriend of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher and he was untouchable.
“While you two were arguing I saw a flyer so I decided to scope around, didn’t think you’d mind considering how serious the discussion of spaghetti and sushi was” he mused, leaning against Billy as he passed the flyer to Stu who had not let his eyes leave the poor part-timer.
“And David…explained the deal?” Stu inquired and (Y/N) nodded “Yeah, we even exchanged our numbers so he’d get us the best seats in the house” he cooed and David shifted uncomfortably as (Y/N)’s boyfriends gazed at him with daggers in their eyes.
“Why the hell would we even eat a kids place with creepy animatronics?” Stu retorted “Let’s bounce, this is laaame”.
There was an edge in Stu’s voice. It often did when he decided to use this sharp-tongued persona - which rarely came out…unless he was particularly annoyed.
(Y/N) rolled his eyes but shrugged and gave David an apology as they eventually walked off to some sushi place.
—
“Woodsboro police department reports the dead body found within the suit of the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaeria mascot is identified to be David Perron. His body was found mutilated and stuffed within the mascot and dragged into the ball pit of the establishment. Authorities are saying this might be the work of the infamous serial killer, Ghostface -“
Stu turns the radio off, (Y/N) squealing as he bounced his knees - effectively making the boy in his lap jump and hold him tighter.
“Stu!” he laughed, the wind in his hair as Billy rested a hand on the back Stu’s headrest. The roof of Billy’s new convertible was down, letting the three lovers feel the blissful breeze and gentle warmth of the California sun.
“Bounce, bounce!” Stu cheered which made Billy peek at the two of them from over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Come on, baby, celebrate!”
“I’m not jumping on your lap in the car! Dumbass!” Stu was no deterred as giggles poured out of (Y/N)’s mouth, his lips attacking (Y/N)’s neck with tongue and teeth.
“The sweater looks better on the floor” Stu purred, hissing sharply as Billy tugged his hair back as he nonchalantly drove with one hand on the wheel. The sweater all three of them were wearing had the logo of the university they’d been accepted into and the one they were making their way towards.
“Billy” Stu whined, the wind muffling it as (Y/N) leaned to kiss Billy and shortly after, turned the radio on. Their favourite song blasted and the lovers rode off, cheering and whooping.
Okay so this may be weird but I kinda wanted to request a Billy x Reader where the reader is a member of the Addams family (I'm in love with morticia and wednesday😔🤚) a little detail is readers personality is a mixture of morticia and Wednesdays. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, if you don't wanna, you can just ignore this ask have a nice day!
This idea is so cute, how dare you think I'd ignore this 😤 I went with headcanons instead of a fic because I didn't know how long that would take and I wanted to get this out before Halloween, so I hope you're okay with that (also I'm super sorry if this sucks aahh) Enjoy <3
Billy Loomis dating a member of the Addams family
Warnings: mentions of death/murder, a few bullet points of nsfw
Billy first met the infamous Addams family after he faked his death back in Woodsboro
He had been looking for a place to lay low for awhile when he stumbled upon the Addams Mansion, and that's where he met you
You had been taking a midnight stroll through the cemetery when you noticed him hiding behind one of the headstones
"What are you doing?"
He quickly jumped up, instinctively pulling out his knife ready to stab you with
"I hope you don't plan on stabbing me anytime soon, I just wanted to know if you'd like to join me. It's such a beautiful night out, perfect for a walk"
He looked you up and down before hesitantly agreeing
"...Sure"
You showed him the different tombstones, pointing out the deceased members of your family and how they died
He started getting more comfortable with you as the night went on
After walking around for awhile, you sat down on a stone bench and invited him to join you
The two of you chatted for awhile, before you told him you were going back inside and asked if he wanted to join you so he wouldn't have to sleep in the woods
He was a bit suspicious at first, but he figured if you were going to try to pull something you would have done it by now, so he said yes
You showed him to one of the guestrooms before bidding him goodnight
The next morning, you introduced him to the family, telling them you had found him outside in the cemetery while you were out on one of your walks
Wednesday immediately recognized him as one of the Woodsboro murderers and asked him how he managed to pull off faking his death
He narrowed his eyes at her and was ready to make her another one of his victims when you chimed in
"Wednesday! You can't just ask people how they faked their death, that's rude"
This prompted Gomez to question on him what he knew about different types of weaponry while Pugsley asked if he could play with his knife
He hadn't expected that to be their reaction, but he wasn't complaining
You and Billy got closer to each other over time, eventually falling in love
When you told the rest of the family about your relationship, they happily welcomed him to the family with open arms
Grandma often has him try some of her recipes to get his opinion on them, while Uncle Fester teaches him the best arteries to hit when stabbing someone
Your date nights typically include walking through the cemetery at night, having horror movie marathons, or disposing of his victims bodies
Y'know, the usual stuff
You have a lot of conversations regarding what happens after you die and stuff like that
Sometimes he'll surprise you with a bouquet of black roses, which you happily put in a vase before snipping off the petals
Whenever your parents get you to babysit your younger siblings, you and him make a bet on which one of them will get injured first
The two of you are almost as passionate as Gomez and Morticia, having sex almost everyday
You're very kinky too, knives, chains, whips, ropes, you name it
You experiment with him a lot in the bedroom, and you guys often do the do right after killing someone together
Speaking of killing someone, if he ever found out anybody made you upset he'll kill them right away, and vice versa
Billy never thought he would end up meeting the love of his life after slaughtering a bunch of people and hiding in their backyard, but he wouldn't have it any other way
Tw: misogininism,sexism,ed, transphobia,reader is described to be short,thin,skinny...(because of ed and misoginy),tentative of sa happens but they do not succed
You met Thomas at school,in first grade. You two were in the same class. He hardly ever talked,and his face was deformed. Different.
Everyone saw it. Most avoided him. Some didn't. And those were the problem.
It was a day a few months after school had started. Friend groups were already formed,and you were playing catch with a classmate when you noticed someone falling. It was Thomas. You went to help,but then you realized just why he fell. Someone had pushed him,and he and his friends were now laughing,calling Thomas a freak over and over again. One even landed a kick on his face. You had never been one for fights,you were smaller than the boys and you weren't all that strong,you had always been a scrawny kid. But still,you wanted to help,so you did the only thing you could think of: you tackled the kid. Basically launched yourself at him,full body weight. You both fell hard on the floor,him hitting his back and head on the concrete,you scraping both your hands and knees. You got up and ran to the next kid,doing the same thing. The others were quick to walk away. You may have been scrawny,but you looked ready to beat them. You sighed,ignoring the sharp pain in your legs and offering a hand to Thomas. It took him a moment,but he grabbed it and you helped him get up,smiling at him. He stared at you for a while,and you invited him to sit with you,since you couldn't play right now. He nodded.
And that was how you befriended the 'freak' of the town.
Thomas was a big kid,even back then. You on the other hand were skinny and short. You often got compliments from old men,saying that "you will surely make a good wife one day,you have the body for it." You tried tp ignore how uncomfortable it made you. Your parents said it was a good thing,that men liked a petite,short woman better. So for the time you started middle school,you were already barely eating. Thomas noticed. He also noticed how you flinched everytime someone called you a girl or pretty,or when guys would flirt with you or comment on your body. Every step you took,every breath seemed to hold a kind of discomfort that constantly plagued your mind. He noticed because the same thing happened to him. But you weren't a freak,you were the most beautiful person he knew,so why would you be so insecure and uncomfortable in your body?
He didn't ask,of course,but he did protect and tried to help you. He didn't understand why you felt like this,but he knew you did and that he wanted to help you. You wanted to hide your body and developing curves? He gave you some of his clothes. They were way too big on you,just the shirt reached your knees,but you liked them,and he liked giving them to you. You didn't like it when people commented on your body or called you a girl? Everytime someone tried he sent them the most intimidating,murderous glare he could master,and they usually backed off. You hated your long hair because they made you look 'too feminine'? He didn't know why you didn't want to look feminine,but he helped you cut them short,trying his best to make them look like the photo you had found in a magazine of men's haircuts. They weren't perfect,but when he saw how happy you looked? Yeah,you were the most beatiful thing he had ever seen. With or without long hair.
You obviously helped him too. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't? You often picked fights with people that tried to bully him. You might be short and skinny,but when you fight? You're actually pretty fucking scary. You tackle,bite,scratch,you stab your fingers in their eyes,you pull hair,kick where the sun doesn't shine....you have no restraint when it comes to protecting him. And in all honesty,he loves it. No one had ever done something like this for him. His family usually told him to suck it up,Luda Mae comforted him but never tried to talk to the school,and the teachers weren't much better than the bullies themselves. And then here you were,beating a guy three times your size,just because he threw a can at him and called him 'a mistake of mother nature'. He sometimes had to step in to help you if he saw you struggling,but that didn't happen too often,mostly because you were fast and aimed for the crotch. You took out many guys because of that alone.
It was a normal day,the day you told Thomas you didn't feel like a girl. A weekend spent at his house. You two often went to eachoter's houses,there was barely any time where you two weren't together. You were sitting in his bed,talking about something stupid,when you finally gathered the courage to ask him. "Would you still see me the same if I was a guy?" He looked at you with a confused expression,then nodded. You sometimes asked him this kind of weird questions. He didn't understand why,but he answered honestly anyway. "And if I told you that I might not be a girl...in my head I mean...like...I think in my head I'm a guy. I don't like being a girl." You said,barely chocking out the words around the lump in your throat. Your hands were trembling and you refused to meet his eyes. During your friendship,Thomas saw you in any and every way he could. He saw you happy,angry,beaten,laughing,crying,at your best and your worst. But he had never seen you look so scared. Especially not around him. You two have been eachoter's comfort person since forever. He never thought you'd be scared of telling him something. It pained him more than any word you could have ever said.
He also didn't understand what you meant at all. How could you be a girl but also not be a girl? He never heard of something like this...how is it possible for someone to be a girl while actually being a guy in their head? He doesn't get it. So he does the only thing he can: he trusts you. You know yourself better than he does,so if you say you're a guy in your head? Then to him,you are. And maybe that's why you're always so uncomfortable with yourself. He hopes that now that you might have found the cause,you'all be able to stop feeling like that. Ever since you were kids,he always hated seeing you feel so bad about your body.
You tried to tell other people too after a few months of keeping it a secret. Needless to say,it didn't go as you had hoped. But when does it ever?
Everyone around you either laughed at you or scolded you for 'saying such stupid things'. Your parents refused to even acknowledge your words. "You're a girl and you will always be a girl. Now,stop saying dumb shit and help me with dinner." Your mother said after giving you a slap on the face. That night you snuck into Thomas' room,your breaths laboured and your whole body shaking. It wasn't the first time you snuck into his room at night but it was the first time Thomas saw you this much distressed. He really hoped it would be the last,too. He didn't even know it could be possible to feel this bad for another person.
You start to get bullied a lot more after coming out. And worse,the bullies start to get a bit too touchy. One night,you were walking towards the Hewitts' house to spend time with Thomas,maybe have a sleepover. Four guys,all people you knew from your school that had heard about your new identity,had forcefully pulled you into an alley,shoving you to the ground. Three pinned you down,covering your mouth with duct tape so that you couldn't scream. One had started to open your shirt,an oversized one you had borrowed from Thomas' closet,its comforting warmth slowly falling off your body to reveal the skin underneath. They were saying somethingabout "showing you that you are a girl" and "fixing your brain so that you would stop trying to be a guy and start acting like a proper whore for them". You trashed,trying to hit the guys holding you down. You were able to grab one right between his legs,and you squeezed as hard as you could. He hissed in pain,letting go of your arm. You landed a punch on the other's nose and tore the duct tape from your mouth,letting out the longest,loudest,most gut-wrenching scream you could produce,while simultaneously trying to hit the third guy. You did,but in the meantime the other two had recovered,and the fourth one had grabbed a knife from his pocket,swinging at you and cutting a deep gush in your cheek. You screamed again,this time from pain,and one of the guys put a hand on your mouth to silence you. You bit it as hard as you could,until you felt blood in your mouth,and you got hit in the back of the head with something hard in response,leaving you dishoriented and in pain. You couldn't think for a few seconds,and the fourth guy took it as an opporrunity to shove your pants and underwear down to your knees. You try to scream again but another one,you're not sure which one anymore,puts yet another piece of duct tape to shut your mouth. You close your eyes,still trashing with all your might,and wait for more pain to arrive. Nothing happens. You hear someone scream,you can't tell which one of the guys it is. You then hear the sickening crunching of bones and the others trying to run away. You hear heavy footsteps following them. Your eyes shot open. You could recognize those footsteps anywhere. Thomas. You sit up,ignoring the sharp pain in your head. You're immediately met with the sight of the guy that had took off your pants,slumped against the wall,face a mess of blood and flesh you didn't want to look at. You quickly pulled your underwear and pants up,holding your shirt closed,and got up only to see Thomas,your sweet,kind Tommy,beating another one of the guys. The other two had already been beaten,seemingly within an inch of their life,and the one in his grip wasn't looking any better. You sprinted to him as he went for another punch,eyes dark with something you had never seen before. "Tommy,stop it! Tommy!" You screamed,holding him back by the arm. He seemed to come back to his sense,at least a bit,as he heard your voice. He turned around,and his stomach dropped. You were shaking violently,tears running down your cheeks,hair and clothes a mess,face whiter than paper,a deep cut on your cheek still bleeding. He found himself praying that they hadn't done anything to you yet,that he wasn't too late.
He was in his house,helping with chores,when he heard your distant scream. He didn't even say anything,just dropped whatever he was holding and sprinted to the street,faster than he had ever run before. He found you quickly,and he felt a rage he had never felt when he saw the scene. You,laying on the ground,held down by three guys,one of them bleeding from his nose and one from his hand,while another one took your clothes off. Their intentions were clear. He saw red in that moment. He grabbed the guy on top of you,lifting him with one hand while the other went for his face,again and again. The others tried to run. He didn't let them. He had a goal in mind: kill all of them. He wanted to beat them until they were unrecognisable,until their bodies were nothing but pieces of flesh covered in blood,until all of their organs were splattered on the wall,until...
It all went away when he saw you. He was still livid,still felt murderous. But more than anything,he was worried. Worried for the only person that never saw him as a monster,and that he had almost lost. He got up,letting go of the guy,who fell back onto the floor,too beaten to run away. He approached you slowly,not wanting to scare you more. You let yourself fall into his arms,and he held you. For a while,you two just stayed still,until he slowly pulled away,taking your hand and guiding you towards his house. He left the guys on the floor. He didn't care what happened to them. Thought he did hope some animal passed by and ate them. But he didn't care. Right now,you were the only thing he cared about. His family tried to ask questions,seeing the state you were in and Thomas' bloody fists. He shook his head and grabbed a smsll medical kit while leading you to his room. No one bothered you two that night. He treated your wounds,let you cry in his chest,held your hair back when you ended up in the bathroom throwing up,and let you curl up in his bed next to him to sleep. He was eerily calm the whole time. Right now,you didn't need him to kill those guys for you. You needed him to be there,you needed comfort and warmth and clothes and treatement. Revenge could wait. You were far more important.
The guys were found the day after. Thomas' prayers had been answered,a dog had happened to walk there and munch on them. Their deaths were attribuited to 'a wild animal attack' and the case was closed.
You never told anyone what had happened that night. Neither did he. The secret,to this day,is held between you two. And he is not gonna break your trust anytime soon. He'd rather die.
For years,life kept being horrible to you two. People kept calling Thomas a retarded freak and a monster,and kept calling you a ruined girl or a crazy woman. Because of it,the only job you and him could find was at the slaughterhouse. You both didn't mind it all that much. If you were being completely honest,you liked it a lot. You spent all your time with Thomas,and it kinda made you feel more like a man. It's a very manly job afterall,everyone agress on that. Your parents even tried to forbid you from doing it. "I would rather have you be a hooker than work there with that freak of your friend! You're a woman now,so stop this little game of pretending and at least try to do something good! Find a husband! Make a baby and maybe your brain will finally fix itself from this delusion!" Your mother said. She even tried to set you up with a man. "She's a bit weird,but nothing a good beating can't fix." She would say,exposing you as if you were a slightly moldy piece of meat. The men was never found after you had told Thomas. Neither was your mother,but that wasn't Thomas' doing at all.
After your parents' 'mysterious' death,you were finally able to get the job you wanted. You and Thomas started on the same day. He handled the heavier jobs,like moving and carrying the meat or sometimes killing the cows,and you mostly prepared the finer cuts. You had gotten a bit bigger after the incident,wanting to be able to protect yourself better and look more like the man you are,but still you were nowhere near Thomas' level. But you didn't really care. No one was at his level,so it didn't upset you.
This was one of the best times of your life. The town was getting emptier already,so there were fewer people to bother you. You liked your job and you finally stopped hating your body as much. Over the years,Thomas had made you various clothes,and even his version of a binder! It wasn't perfect since he had no idea what a binder is,and neither did you,but it did its job pretty well. You were starting to pass more and more. And to make things even better? You and Thomas finally got togheter. It wasn't anything big,just one day,you confessed that you saw him as more than just your best-friend. "I love you,Tommy. As more than just a friend. I want to spend my life with you." You say,handing him a ring. It was your father's wedding ring. It was far too small for him,but there wasn't a jewelry store in town,so you couldn't get him another one. He looked at you with wide eyes for a long while,frozen in shock. He then nodded and took the ring in his hand as if it was the greatest teasure in the whole world. You smiled and kissed his mask,right over his lips. And behind the thick leather,he smiled back. The brightest smile he ever had on his face. In that moment,he was the happiest man in the world,and nothing could ruin it. He always wore the ring on a string of leather around his neck,since it was too small for his fingers. He had given you a ring too,since you didn't want to wear your mother's for...pretty obvious reasons. It was a family's treasure given to him by Luda Mae,just a simple gold band. You wore it on a matching string around your neck too,so you wouldn't get it dirty while working. Everytime you happened to get a glimpse of your now husband's ring,you smiled like an absolute fool. It was sappy and probably unmanly,but you couldn't care less. You were happy,the happiest you've ever been.
Of course everything just had to go to shit after that. Life's a bitch,as you always say.
The town keeps getting emptier until all that's left is you and the Hewitts. The slaughterhouse shuts down,and Thomas kills the boss. You take the blame for it,because of course you do,and almost get arrested. Instead,when the officer comes to the house where you now live with your husband and your family to take you away,Charlie kills him. He takes on his identity and becomes Hoyt. He serves a stew and makes a speech and all you understand is that you're currently eating human meat. He brings two young men,a girl and the corpse of a woman to the house and starts basically torturing the guys,while Thomas is ordered to prepare the dead body to be eaten. And you? You help him. Because at the end of the day,this is your family. At least,Thomas is. And if you have to become a monster for your family,then so be it.
Guys I promise I'm gonna write for someone else too,but the Thomas Hewitt fever is just too strong.
