Lester n Vincent ( hcs) reacting to reader who is having a really bad anxiety attack and they pass out in their arms please and happy new year 🥺✨
Congrats you're my first person to request Lester lol Happy new year to you as well!... Ok so I went kind of wild with these and made them longer story based hcs, also added more slashers just for fun :) Hopefully I did Lester justice since this is my first write for him! Also warning, there is gore, blood and stress lol.. enjoy🔪💕
MASTERLIST
SLASHERS REACT TO S/O THAT HAS A PANIC ATTACK
INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT and LESTER
JASON VOORHEES
It was a night you saw him kill for the first time. The blood covered the branches of the bushes and oozed in the soil around you. The moonlight illuminated the plastic hockey mask now sprayed in a crimson paint, his chest rose and fell deeply, enough to see some bones sticking out from unhealed wounds.
At Jason’s feet were 3 teenagers' corpses. You knew what he did but seeing the bodies be brutally cut down 10 feet away from you was another story.
When you had woken up from a nap Jason was gone, he didn’t tell you people had been at the camp, if he did you would not have been on this walk in the first place, but you knew he would never wake you up. The words stupid, stupid, stupid screamed in your brain as you watched the bodies twitch and pour streams of blood. Would Jason be mad at you? Would he hurt you too? oh my god is that person really dead or still breathing?
You started to breathe heavy and choke when they caught the back of your throat violently, Jason moved towards you slowly. Even though you knew how gentle he was with you, you still questioned him at this moment; the blood flowing beneath boots, the smell of rich dirt and copper, the way the nature fell eerily silent following the high pitched wails of the victims, and the way the creature tore through the bodies with ease. It was all so animalistic. Wicked and ruthless.
Locking eyes with Jason you walked back a few steps, his blue eyes were dark, pupils blown with something you had never seen before, this was the killer of camp crystal lake. Throwing his machete to the ground he held out his large hands, gently pulling up his mask as if that might help.
Your throat was closing and hot tears started to flow down your cheeks, broken gasps and whimpers rose from your chest as Jason stood towering over you.
“J-jay..” you cried and felt yourself go lightheaded as his large bloodied hand reached for you, one last tough inhale and your world went black.
Coming to, you were in the cabin, with the fire roaring and about 3 blankets on top of you. A large shadow stirred from the kitchen and came into the light. It was Jason with a hot towel and your favourite drink, softly he smiled rushing to your side. He was maskless and all cleaned up, looking under the blanket you were just in your underwear and a t-shirt, cleaned from any blood.
Kneeling down beside you Jason gingerly brushed a few stray hairs from your face and kissed your forehead. You could tell by the way he lingered and how soft his touch was that you scared him and made him worry. Pressing his forehead against yours Jason squeezed his eyes almost trying to tell you that it hurt, you hurt his heart, scared him so badly and made his nightmares come true. It wasn’t your fault he knew and made you aware of that by his touches and kisses.
The sight of you sprayed with blood and going limp under his grasp was something Jason had only seen in the darkest corners of his mind. He is making sure you stay put and knows exactly where he is going next time.
MICHAEL MYERS
The door creaked open to the bedroom, you had been laying there for a while in and out of sleep, just waiting for Michael’s return. He never slept well, so often Michael found himself lurking in the shadows of the night, or just watching some tv downstairs not wanting to disturb you.
Rolling over you squinted, trying to see in the darkness “Michael..” you whined, reaching out slightly into the shadows.
Soft eyes started to adjust to the darkness and you were met with eyes that weren’t the cold gaze of your lovers, they were alive with curiosity and there was a different maliciousness. This was a much different predator, one the shadows rejected and gave up to you. It was a smaller man in height and muscle, dressed head to toe in black tight-fitting clothes.
A scream left your lips and you tried to scramble away when gloved hands grabbed your ankles pulling you closer to the stranger. His body weight leaned against your frame, his smell revoltingly encapsulated yours; sure to the average person he might've smelled nice but you only had taste for one dangerous cologne, the one of rich copper and animalistic musk.
Kicking and screaming only one name left your lips, "Michael". It was the only thought you had. You knew Michael would come for you, he always did in bad situations. Your scream was his soft siren call and he was the broken sailor beckoned; however, it was much more possessive and raw than that. Michael never liked his things to be tampered with. You were his and that was that.
The stranger above you reached in his pockets and found some zip ties, struggling but bounding your legs and wrists together. “what a little fighter” His words sharp and almost making you gag.
Your breath became more and more ragged, blood pumping and heart racing loudly in your ears, while streams of tears flowed. Crippled whimpers and wails caught in your throat more and more with each stroke of the stranger's gloved hands.
That’s when something stirred in the hallway, a flash of navy and white them seamlessly blending into the shadows like a perfected craft. This was his art, not the strangers. “You should be afraid” you choked out. The man gave a laugh “of what?”
“Of me” a deep growl spoke from the shadows. The man widened his eyes looking directly into yours, as Michael reached around and slit his throat from ear to ear. Blood spraying over you, the bed and running a deep crimson river to the floor, choking and deep gurgles filled the air. You watched the life drain from the man's green eyes and he reached out for you to help him ironically. Michael grabbed the man looking him in the eyes, feeding his own sick desires of watching a soul leave the body or maybe wanting the stranger to meet the cold inhumane gaze, making him terrified as he died.
Even though you knew the more than tense situation was over, you just witnessed a man die; he was bleeding, clutching his throat fruitlessly, life leaving his eyes and grabbing for you. It was all too raw and your throat was closing, you could taste the unfamiliar copper on your lips making you shudder in disgust. Michael ripped off the white mask and he propped you up under his knee and one arm, while the other was on his dripping blade.
“Mi-Michael, please” you whimpered against his chest feeling yourself go fuzzy and limp. A rough shake kept you awake for a moment then you saw his knife coming towards you to cut the zip ties and that was it, the world went black.
Waking up, you coughed and sputtered at the warm water that was splashed in your face. You were in the bathtub, warm pinkish water surrounded you and a large hand cupped your jaw while the other wiped some blood away from you and rubbed at the marks on your wrists.
Meeting Michael’s cold gaze, it wasn’t cold, it was oddly warm still with that edge that his damaged eye gave him. “Baby” you whispered reaching a shaky hand to run along his cheek and sharp jaw. Michael didn’t turn away or roughly remove your hand like normal, he allowed your touch and leaned into it, closing his eyes and whispering barely audible “I’m sorry”
BO SINCLAIR
The screams and gunshots had stopped. Only the muffled classical music flowed from the basement where Vincent was working. Usually, Bo would come immediately back home, dragging his bloodied adrenaline-filled frame through the front door. 10 minutes went by then another and another. You began to grow worried and sick to your stomach with anxiety.
Hesitantly you grabbed one of Bo's jackets and heading out to the garage. The familiar scent of ash, teakwood and grease eased you enough to walk down the dimly lit abandoned streets.
Rounding a corner, from the shadows a man reached out for you, it was a man you had seen from this morning and left with Bo in the gas station. He was still alive, covered in blood but still alive. The man pulled you against the wall of the old building. Your heart pounded in your skull and your breath became broken and hitched, hearing footsteps pounding towards you the man whipped you around, placing you in front of him like a shield.
You met the dangerous baby blues of Bo, he was seething, shoulders tensed, neck stiff with veins popping and hands on his shotgun. "Let. Her. Go." Bo's words coated in venom, a wickedness you had never heard before. "Bo" you whimpered as the stranger tightened his hold on you, now placing a sliver shiv to your collar bone.
"If you let me leave, I will let her go.." the stranger negotiated. "We both know that can't happen... how ‘bout you let her go and I won't make ya suffer" Bo shifted his hand on the gun and the stranger raised the blade to your chin, your tears were uncontrolled at this point, silently pleading with Bo to do whatever the man said. "Fuck.. Alright, alright" Bo began to place the gun on the ground slowly, but nodded twice at you, a signal he practiced with you, closing your eyes and inhaling as much as you could, you knew what you had to do. Do what Bo taught you, just in case this might ever happen.
With one quick motion you grabbed the man's wrist pulling and twisting, using your hip to fuel momentum, yanking the man down in a struggle you managed to grab the blade and stab into his neck. At this point it was just adrenaline, you were never supposed to actually kill him, Bo taught you just to wait, but the damage had been done. Blood was on your hands, oozing and spraying with each thump of the man's heart. The scared look in his eyes made you wanna choke, you would never forget this. The whole scene was too raw. You had just killed a man.
Quickly Bo came to your side and beat the strangers' skull in with the end of his shotgun, it was brutal, gory, unmerciful assault. He was gone but Bo was lost in rage, the man touched and threatened what was his.
“Bo... Bo p-please, Bo” your cried pushing yourself along the cold asphalt. Whipping around Bo was not human, he was a beast, covered in blood, huffing and bearing his teeth. “Bo enough” you shook frozen in his gaze “B-baby” whispering to try and bring him back. Bo dropped the bloody gun and stepped towards you, kneeling down he held you, felt every broken gasp and shake. The scene replayed in your head over and over again, suddenly you gave a whimper and felt yourself go limp under Bo’s grasp.
Waking up your eyes adjusted to the warm yellow lighting of the old house, loud footsteps moved in a pattern, back and forth Bo paced until there was some muffled yelling “What do you mean there is nothing you can do?!... she just went limp... Fuck I don’t know... how could she just be fine?!” You let out a whimper and shifted on the old couch and Bo practically ran to you, cupping your face gently but always with a rough edge. His eyes were red, possibly from tears or adrenaline, he shook and breathed heavily.
“Baby, don’t ever do that again!” Bo yelled, most likely rougher than he initially intended but he kissed your forehead gingerly. “You scared the shit outta me!” You knew his yelling was just his fear. The nightmare of losing you could’ve come true tonight, and once the adrenaline wore off you knew he would be gentle again and hold you all night.
VINCENT SINCLAIR
Coming home from a shitty day your anxiety was already higher than normal, you labelled papers wrong at work and just couldn't seem to do anything right today; All you wanted was to just get comfy with some bad food and lay in your boyfriend's arms, forgetting the world. Carrying your exhausted stressed body into the old home, it was quiet; Bo must have been at the garage and maybe Vincent was downstairs.
Tossing your bags and shoes off to the side, you made your way to the basement, guided by candlelight. The eerie silence, the hot air and the creepy faces in the wall made a less than relaxing atmosphere. With each creek of the stairs, your heart seemed to race faster, even though you had made your way down these stairs hundreds of times before there was a different energy here, one with malice, one that drew tingles up your spine.
Rounding the corner, Vincent stood behind some sort of contraption made of metal and leftover medical supplies. The structure held a wax-coated body, one of the men you had lured into town yesterday. Vincent had always kept you away from the making of his creations, it was a brutal process, especially when he usually left the victims alive, Bo said “it gave them more expression if they’re still livin”
Vincent was lost in focus, smoothing the skin and creating delicate textures, if you didn’t know it was a real life person under the wax it honestly might have been soothing to watch, but you swallowed hard at the reality. You felt your throat started to become scratchy and closed with anxiety, clearing your throat it drew the attention of your boyfriend across the room.
You must’ve scared Vincent by your presence because he jolted the metal structure and there was a loud snap. A deep red oozed from the neck of the wax body and pooling on the floor. Vincent’s blue eye looked down to the body then back to you, watching as you covered your mouth and shook.
Rushing over to you Vincent gently placed a hand in your hair and one on your arm trying to steady you, pulling your chin up you saw the worry on his face under the wax mask. He could feel your ragged breathing, shaking and Vincent could have sworn he heard your heartbeat. Clutching his chest you felt yourself go lightheaded and fall into him, your eyes closed as Vincent held you.
Gingerly opening your eyes you felt a hard body underneath you, the room was dimly lit by the lamp on the bedside table, and you noticed a glass of water was next to the lamp. A hand carded through your hair while the other ran a cool towel against your forehead, Vincent sat up slightly so he could meet your eyes when he noticed you had woken up.
Softly smiling you spoke “Di-Did I pass out?” Vincent just nodded slowly and signed ‘Do you feel ok?’ “yeah.. I think it was just an anxiety attack” Vincent kissed your head as you continued “...and I didn’t each much today” He frowned but nodded again, ‘Stay... I will grab you some food’
LESTER SINCLAIR
“Why the hell is Louisiana so damn hot?” you ask irritably uncomfortable in the truck as Lester came into the drivers side. This morning wasn’t exactly ideal and you got a terrible sleep, Lester tried to help but it just gave you anxiety. You hated these days when just out of nowhere you would feel anxious for simply no reason, but thankfully Lester never blamed you or made you feel bad.
“I know baby girl, it’s s’possed to be in the hundreds all week” He said turning the key making the old truck come to life. Groaning, you tried to roll down the window and it wouldn't budge just adding to the torture "oh man, I forgot to ask Bo to fix that, sorry cupcake" you glared at the name he gave while Lester just laughed rolling down his window.
This morning you decided to drive around with your boyfriend, cleaning up the roads of any roadkill. You had never done it with him before and honestly you kind of felt bad just sitting at home, not ever helping him.
Mindless chatter and laughter made the ride short and Lester tried to distract you from your own anxious mind. Pulling over it was not a pleasant scene, the poor thing was bent and broken with blood smeared all over the road. “oh my god Lester... poor little deer” you stood back allowing Lester to pull the deer over by the truck.
“Necks broke.. the thing didn’t suffer” Lester gave you a gentle smile and nodded trying to make light of his gory job. “Ready?” he asked as you helped lift the deer onto the flatbed of the truck.
Picking up one more deer carcass along the way, you were now headed to ‘the pit’. You had been there only once before, when you met Lester but he had never let you go back since. Even he didn’t stick around the dumping grounds often.
“If ya wanna stay in the truck it’s fine” Lester smiled. “No, no I’m ok” you insisted jumping out of the truck. The smell was unbearable, flies swarmed and the gore was horrifying, especially to an animal lover. Your heart started to race and you felt like throwing up, but you tried to push it away and continue to help Lester dragging the deer into the pit.
“Ya alright?” he asked looking at your frozen figure. There was a hand. A human hand sticking up from the middle of a deer carcass. You couldn’t hear Lester’s calls for you, your heart pounded too hard and your breath seemed to be stuck in your throat. Quickly Lester moved behind you trying to move you away from the scene but suddenly you went limp and passed out.
Coming to, you were laying in some grass, a nice shady spot away far away from the pit. Lester was running toward you with a water bottle from the truck and coming to sit next you, he propped you up on his knee handing you the bottle “Fuck ya scared me baby” the stroked your hair and held you tight. “Sorry Les” you whispered looking into his soft brown eyes. “Don’ be sorry.. I never should’a let ya join” Lester bent down to kiss your cheek and wipe some blood away “Can we just go home and shower?” you giggled.
Candyman and Michael reacting to their s/o who is sore/hurt.
Commissions: OPEN
Michael: (116 words) 🔪
He knew you were hurt the moment he saw you. You kept favoring your left ankle and he could see that it was slightly bigger than the other. However, he left you to your own devices until he heard you let out a soft, almost inaudible gasp. He saw you wince in pain. You sat on your bed, your ankle elevated by pillows.
You flinched and hissed at a sudden coldness that you felt at your ankle. Once Michael saw that you had noticed his presence and the bag of frozen peas on your ankle, he let you hold the bag as he threw a bottle of Ibuprofen on the bed along with a water bottle.
Candyman: (word count: 116) 🍯
"Daniel, It's not the big of a deal." You said as he carried you to the kitchen as your stomach was rumbling.
"You were limping, Y/N."
You sighed at his deep but hypnotizing voice. You knew that as soon as he had seen you after you went on your intense running session that he would be fussing over you being sore.
He set gently down on the counter and you decided to let him take care of you. You ate the soup that he made you and let him take you to your couch. You sat on his lap and watched the rain fall as he held you, his nose buried in an intriguing novel.
Michael Myers grocery shopping with his s/o headcanons
Requests: CLOSED
Commissions: OPEN
You went to the store with Michael for eggs and twenty minutes later, you were looking at shopping cart that was filled with sweets.
He glared at you when you tried to put one of the many cakes that he had put in the cart.
"Michael, you can't live on cakes and sweets." You said as Michael ignores you and proceeds to self checkout.
You say "fuck it." And get your own cart, filling it with not the healthiest shit in the world but it was a hell of a lot healthier than cakes and what not.
It takes you about five minutes to get what food you want and before you know it, you and Michael are piling the food into your car.
"If you eat cake before I cook dinner, I will not cook." You knew deep down that your threat was empty. Michael slipped his mask back on and you swore you could see him roll his eyes
Commissions are open because I am trying to save money to get myself a car.
My rates will be 0.01 per word !
Minimum - 50 words.
Maximum - 500 words.
Payment method: CASHAPP
Key -
100 words = $1
200 words = $2
I will be going up to 500 words for now. So headcanons, drabbles and ficlets will be available for commission. Cash app is the only payment method I have right now.
I have the right to deny any requests. I am doing this for free.
REQUESTS CLOSED
Open: Imagines (very short), Preferences (short ish, could be long. It depends, headcanons (short)
Closed: One Shots (1k+ words), drabbles (500+ words)
Commissions: OPEN
Open: headcanons, drabbles, ficlets
Closed: one shots
Send requests through my ask box please.
Send commissions through my dm please
I will write:
- Triggering subjects ( self h*rm, sui*ide attempts, depre*sion). There are limits, though.
- Fluff. No limits. Send me all your fluffy prompts !!!
- Angst. There are limits, though.
I will not write:
- Pedophilia. (I swear to God if you send me an ask, joking or not, you will be blocked).
- Incest (Do I really need to explain myself for this one?)
-Smut/NSFW- (This may change in the future but for now, Smut and NSFW are a no-go). IMPLIED SMUT/NSFW IS OKAY BUT YOU MUST BE 18 YEARS OLD OR OLDER.
- Reader with a specified Mental illness (Depression, Anxiety, Suicide attempts are okay)
When you are requesting....
- I need detail.
Bad: Jason x reader fluff please and thank you. (This gives me no motivation. Give me something to work with)
Good: Jason x Reader. Reader makes lunch with Jason. Fluffy please. Thank you.
All my fanfiction will be gender neutral. I want everyone to be able to fit themselves into the story.
Commission info:
I will write - su*cide attempts, depression, anxiety, fluff, and angst.
I will not write - Smut (may change later on), su*cide attempts where the reader actually is successful, r*pe, p*do, inc*st, poly (may change later on)
Check rules before sending a commission !
Rates: $0.01 per word.
Minimum: 50 words.
Maximum (for now): 500 words.
If I go over for your headcanon/ficlet there will be no charge 🤍
Please be specific as possible. The more specific you are, the chances of me writing exactly what you want increases.
theartofmadeline
stormborns
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
