Hii, I adored the fluffy/domestic headcanons you wrote about Tommy 🥺 May I request the texan boio with a S/O who tries her best to help out with the house chores even if she is scared of the constant screaming when new victims arrive? Also, please add some fluff to the mixture if you don't mind ofc 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you for reading 💙
I loved, loved, LOVED writing this! Thank you for the request!!!
Warnings: Blood, mentions of murder & cannibalism
Thomas Hewitt With A Frightened S/O:
Life in the Hewitt house wasn’t exactly easy.
Most days consist of a long list of grueling chores, inside the house, outside the house, and sometimes around the empty town you live in..
It was all worth it to you, though, if it meant you could be with Thomas
You didn’t mind helping Monty out with the house work, which really meant you doing all of the work, because at the end of the day, Thomas would kiss your cheek and tell you how appreciative he was to have a clean house, all because of you.
You didn’t mind helping Thomas out with the chickens and pigs, because it warmed your heart to see him be so gentle with the small creatures. Sometimes you and Thomas would dilly dally in the barn, sitting together, holding hands, and cooing over the small piglets.
You didn’t mind helping Luda Mae out at her shop, working 12 hour shifts. Mostly because it allowed you to avoid the house while Hoyt brought some poor, unfortunate souls into the Hewitt household for Thomas to chop up for dinner.
You had no regrets about living with Thomas and his family - you were in love with Thomas, you were happy to have him in your life - but there was nothing in this world that would help you stomach the fact that your boyfriend and his family were cannibals. There was nothing in this world that would make you okay with hearing the screams of the victims down in the basement.
You tried your best to be out of the house when Thomas was working down there, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.
Today was particularly stressful for you.
You were in the kitchen, preparing lunch for everyone when Hoyt bursted through the front door, shoving a bloodied, crying girl into the house.
“Thomas!? Tommy, get up here, I’ve got dinner for us,” he hollered with a sickening smile.
The girl couldn’t have been any older than you. Her face was littered in cuts and tears and blood were dripping down her face. Her arm looked bruised and possibly broken, and a part of you wanted to rush to her side and help her escape.
But that just wasn’t a possibility.
Helping this girl escape meant people would find out what the Hewitt family was doing, which meant the police would storm the house. Which meant Thomas would be taken away from you.
And you just couldn’t let that happen.
So, you went about your business in the kitchen, trying to ignore the girl’s terrified screams as Thomas ascended the stairs, hauled her over his shoulder, and took her down into the basement to kill her.
The screaming of Thomas’ victims always scared you. Wherever you were in the house, the horrified shrieking always pierced your ears. It haunted your dreams and penetrated your thoughts throughout each day.
Thomas knew how you felt, and he wished more than anything that things were different; that he could take you away from this place, give you the life he knew you deserved.
But that just wasn’t in the cards for the two of you. Thomas viewed himself as a monster, a murderer, a disgusting, man-eating parasite that would corrupt anything normal that came his way.
The big white house in the middle of nowhere that was broached with blood and haunted with countless tortured souls was where he belonged.
This meant that Thomas would dedicate each day to you, thinking of you every second he spent away from you, stealing jewelry from his victims for you, sometimes pretty clothes too.
He would hover over you whenever his work for the day was over, making sure you were okay and pulling you into random hugs every now and then.
You appreciated all of Thomas’ sweet gestures. You knew he was worried about you and was doing anything he could to make it up to you. Thomas was always sweet to you like that.
His sweet kisses at the end of the day and his large arms wrapping around you in bed made living with the Hewitt’s all worth it.
“Thomas?” you whispered into the dead of night.
Thomas shifted in bed to look down at your face.
“I love you. You know that right?”
Thomas nodded and pulled you against his chest, holding you tightly. He was glad for your reassurance.
“Goodnight, Thomas.”
He stroked your head as he nodded off, which you knew meant, ‘Goodnight, my love.’
