#nubbins sawyer x you

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

HELLO HELLO

Would you by any chance be willing to write some small headcannons for the Sawyers (TCM), Stu Macher, and Billy Loomis?

Specifically, how they would comfort their S/O who has just been dropped by their lifelong best friends. (This same thing happened to me and I need help coping 😔)

ANYWAYS

Remember to take care of yourself!! Get lots of rest, eat, drink water, and relax ❤️

I would love to!! Also fuck them they’re missing out

Comfort! S/o with Shitty Friends x The Sawyer Family + Scream 1 Killers!

Nubbins Sawyer

-“Well y-ya want me to k-kill em y/n?”

-“Nubbins NO!”

-lil disappointed but accepts

-he isn’t great with feelings

-brings you roadkill to make you feel better

-“Y-y/n look! I g-gots you a d-dead bird!”

-lmao

-he’s like a cat with that shit man

-super clingy and cuddles with you if you feel like it

Chop Top Sawyer

-goes on a rant about how they don’t deserve you

-also volunteers to murder them

-tbh not super great at comforting or sympathetic

-“Why are you hurt y/n? You don’t even need em’! You got me!”

Drayton Sawyer

-“Well, I can tell you this much. Those kids are damn fools if they dropped you.”

-he gives you a short hug then shoos you away to do your chores

-smiles, he’s surprisingly sweet about it

-Uncle Dray has a rare soft spot for ya

-makes your favorite dinner that night

-to cheer you up

Bubba Sawyer

-best comforter

-squeals and grunts in reactions when you tell him

-big bear hugs

-will hug you for hours

-he makes some flowers for you in a pretty bow

-he does things with you that your friends normally did, like gaming, painting nails, any activity like that

Nancy Slaughter

-she rolls her eyes at them

-“You’re a perfectly fine kid. Thems’ mommas ain’t raise em right.”

-gives you a grandma hug and you choke on her perfume

Sissy Slaughter

-she thinks it’s stupid

-she tells you they are stupid for giving up a wonderful person like you

-lists all your great qualities

-she cheers you up verbally the best I think

-secretly kills one

-she’d lean up and give you a hug

-and have a hangout that night

Johnny Slaughter

-“Y/n, them kids just stupid bastards.”

-he’d also give you a quick hug

-he would give you some heavy whiskey if you wanted it

-he would also kill then even if you told him not to

-he would talk about how annoying they were to kill 💀

Stu Macher

-also secretly kills them

-talks about how dumb they were anyway and how great you are

-they don’t deserve you anyway and they are going to regret dropping you

-cuddles you

-similar to chop top tbh

Billy Loomis

-he would ask where they live 💀

-kills them in secret as ghost face too

-he would give you lots of kisses

-cuddles, attention

-would make sure you’re just as happy without them

-smirks a bit when the tv announcement comes on that they’ve died under “mysterious circumstances”

#slasher x reader #nubbins sawyer x you #nubbins sawyer x reader #choptop sawyer #sissy sawyer #nubbins sawyer #bubba sawyer #sawyer family #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #chop top sawyer #tcm johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #nubbins slaughter #slasher billy loomis #bubba slaughter #slasher x you #sissy slaughter #scream 1 #stu macher #Billy Loomis #tcm johnny #sissy tcm #TCM #tcm sissy #texas chainsaw massacre headcanons #texas chainsaw x reader #Texas chainsaw massacre game #Texas chainsaw massacre

[loveandmurders]

Oooooo what would happen if the sawyers adopted (well stole) a teen gn reader.

One day they walk in on the reader with wendigo like features, like the antlers, the twisted animal like legs and they had found a skull so they had it on their head like a mask.

Would they be scared or...?

Hello there, thank you for this fun little request! Hope you'll enjoy <3

WENDIGO

Warnings: reader is kidnapped, mentions of murders and cannibalism, reader turns into a wendigo.

Even before you had been kidnapped and adopted by the Sawyers, you had loved the forest, the animals living in there and the legends surrounding this wild and dark nature.

Your favourite story was definitively about the wendigo creature.

There was something about it that fascinated you. It was strong, tall, and powerful. And more than anything it was dangerous and known to kill humans.

You were just a little human yourself, so the thought of something of such puissance was making you shiver in fear, delight and excitement.

Your biological family never really understood why you enjoyed those stories that much, but it seemed harmless enough for them to not bother you about it.

But now you were living with a bunch of cannibals, the legend of the wendigo was taking a new importance in your life.

Indeed, like a wendigo, you were now eating human flesh.

Your current way of life was driving you insane enough for you to believe you were becoming a wendigo.

One night, you went into the forest, and found everything you needed to “dress” like a wendigo, and the more you did so, and the more it felt like you were truly becoming one.

Actually, your body changed and when you put a skull over your own face, you turned into a wendigo.

It was getting late, so your family went out to look for you. When the Sawyers found you, they didn’t recognise you, until they noticed a necklace around your neck. It was the only thing you kept from your former humanity.

Drayton was at first very confused and worried about you. When he adopted you, it was because he needed someone to help him in the kitchen, not to start a new mess. He wasn’t too impressed, but he quickly thought that you would now be able to bring quite a lot of meat to the family, which would be nice. They would never be hungry again with you in the family.

Nubbins, on the other hand, was in awe. He loved how twisted your body and face looked, how tall you became, how strong you must be. He couldn’t wait to see you hunt down someone and kill them in front of his own two eyes. He was very excited and started to take photos of you. He found you so beautiful and perfect that way.

His twin brother, Chop-Top, was speechless. He even forgot to scratch his head to blood as he watched you. He tilted his head to the side to have a better look at you. He then started to happily scream and to dance around you. “Ya’re gonna kill everyone in town! Ya’re gonna kill everyone in town!” he chanted like in transe.

Bubba was the most excited of them all. He loved your “mask” and he loved how you had been able to change your appearance to match the darkness growing inside of you. He couldn’t wait to start killing with you by his side. You were going to be the perfect match. No one could ever touch the Sawyer family, because you would be their new protector, like they used to protect you from the normal and boring people.

Grandpa Sawyer was the only one to realise that you might be too dangerous for the Sawyers to be able to control you. But his weak whispers of fear and worries were lost in the screams, songs and loud noises coming from the rest of his family. He was glad his wife was already dead and wouldn’t have to deal with you. How could they all be sure you weren’t going to forget who your family was… and kill them all too?

#texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre x reader #drayton sawyer x reader #drayton sawyer x you #nubbins sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer x you #chop top sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer x you #bubba sawyer x you #bubba sawyer x reader #leatherface x you #leatherface x reader #grandmpa sawyer x reader #grandpa sawyer x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader

[horrorjunki3]

Texas chainsaw massacre slashers with m!reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of insecurities, sexual content if you squint, Discussion of PTSD and Mental illness for choptop and nubbins and unsafe driving

The reader is meant to be interpreted as a men -> trans inclusive ♡

Thomas Hewitt

♡ I feel like Thomas would like a sweet/kind partner -> he has alot of insecurities and you being kind would go ALONG way.

♡ I personally Headcannon that if Tommy was Queer Lunda May knows and picks up on your attraction to Thomas -> how you react to him is what would save your life! She just wants her boy to be happy after all

♡ His first thought when he sees you was that you were just so handsome and when you smile at him he gets all flustered! -> If you compliment his mask, eyes or hair during this time he will kind off shut down till Lunda May steps in to help!! Matchmaker she is!

♡ He'd think your perfect -> nothing could make this man change his mind - Regardless of your insecurities he'd love every part of you

♡ I think he'd love to see you and his momma getting along! Sometimes when he sees how sweet it is he can't help but pull you away and smother you

♡ His a very physically affectionate person -> However at the beginning of the relationship he is very shy and clumsy about it. Once he gets more comfy with you tho his constantly touching you in very wholesome and affectionate ways like holding your hand or a peck on the cheek -> he was raised to be a gentlemen after all

♡ I feel like Tommy's ideal date is cuddling outside of a night time, just basking in his boyfriends love

♡ when Tommy first asks you out he gives you a letter telling you everything he loves -> although he can't speak it doesn't stop him from expressing his love for you through words of affirmation

Choptop/ Robert Sawyer

♡ I feel like Chop would like a guy who has a unique fashion sense or shares his love for music

♡ He loves passionate people -> if you generally love something with all your heart he just listens to you and smiles

♡ I strongly headcannons that he'd let you live if you're a fan of his band Cornbugs.

-> Imagine recognising his voice and stuttering out that you know him -> name a song you like and he will be so smug and flustered

♡ He'd call you pet names like "Big boy, Big daddy, pretty boy, or babe"

♡ Loves when you call him handsome -> after his plate he didn't think anyone would see him as handsome or love him again -> kiss his plate he will melt

♡ He'd love driving Speeding at night and listening to music -> alternatively he will slow down if it scares you

♡ He'd love if you shared your taste for music with him -> makes him feel like he can understand you better

♡ will write love songs for you and sing them -> sings about how perfect you look when discussing your passions

♡ His extermly affectionate! And will grope you at any moment! Your his man and he finds you so perfect he can't help it.

♡ He'd have nightmares and PTSD flash backs -> will come to you for help because you make him feel safe

♡ Please act like a groupie for him -> he doesn't care if it's real or not he'll melt and kiss you like his starving everytime you do

Cornbugs song reccomendations: spot the psycho, pigs are people too, cornbugs and anything from the album "celebrity pyscho"

Nubbins Sawyer

♡ This sweet sweet boy!!

♡ You pick him up hitch-hiking but alternatively to other people you ask questions, listen and care about what his saying. When he takes a photo of you -> you most likely pay him and ask for one of you guys together bc how could you not? His so cute!

♡ He'd take photos of you constantly -> occasionally he'd let you take photos of him. I headcannon that there's this one beautiful photo of him sorting through photos with a smile and it's so cute. (A/N: I've gotta draw that omfg!)

♡ Tells everyone about you -> asks victims if they think his boyfriend handsome - lord help them if they say no

♡ He calls you "Darlin' , Sweetheart and handsome" -> call him pretty boy he loves it!

♡ His ideal date would be having you in his bed while he takes photos of you -> this isn't necessarily sexual he just thinks your perfect and wants to capture it

♡ He loves showering with you and getting spoiled! His so touch starved and loves to be cuddling you, sitting on your lap or anything he just loves it!!

♡ It's cannon that he has Schizophrenia and there will be days that are harder for him -> please be there for him during these times.

♡ He will tease and mock you but it's done lovingly -> doesn't like it when anyone else does it

Bubba sawyer

♡ Much like Tommy Bubba needs a gentle and kind partner! Please tell him his pretty! Tell them they're good!

♡ I headcannon that Bubbas gender queer and uses he/they pronouns!! Please love and support them! Tell him, he looks pretty when they do their make up!

♡ If your sweet and kind to them -> they'll wanna save you like with stretch! Compliment him and call him how pretty he is and he will choose you over the saw!

♡ Bubbas extermly loyal once you become his family he -> he will do anything for you!

♡ They will carry you - even if you think they can't they'Il make an exaggerated noise and just lift ya! They are sooo strong

♡ Gift giving is there love language and they'll make you little brackets and stuff

♡ His a giant teddy bear and loves cuddles and kisses!!!

♡ They will melt if he sees you Helping them family regardless of if it's to do with meat or cleaning! They love their family and seeing you love them? It's the best sight ever

♡ Bubba wants kids! So he'll definitely want to adopt some lil Bubbas or have some animal babies -> they love cats but are never allowed to keep them:( Maybe if you both beg his brothers you can keep them!!

#thomas hewitt x male reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher x reader #slasher x you #chop top sawyer #thomas hewitt #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader #chop top x reader #robert sawyer #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #leatherface x reader

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Hello, can I request for Nubbins x fem reader? His s/o sees Nubbins sleeping and then thinks it's her chance to escape, even if she has to hit him to buy time and still she doesn't make it?

Yesss! I love this! This is my first request and first request for Nubbins! Thank you tons!

Pairing: Nubbins Sawyer x Fem reader

Warning: Kidnapping, violence, bad language, cannibalism, etc

A/n: I love writing to music as I've said before so the two songs I listened to the most while writing this was Diet Mountain Dew and West Coast by Lana Del Rey ! (I love his cute little face)

You had been in the Sawyer house for what felt like months. You had helped a man on the side of the road named Nubbins. At first you thought he was strangely cute so of course you took him home, you knew you would feel like shit if you left him in that awful Texas heat. Of course you thought he was odd for his strange behavior to his strawberry like birthmark on his face. "Y-you sure are pretty." He said in a thick accent, starring at you with a huge grin. You smiled softly uncomfortable. "Don't get any ideas." The man chuckled. "I won't hurt ya." You cursed yourself everyday for helping him. You've tried to escape before but each time they caught you. Holding your knees to your chest you looked around the room, the mattress you sat on was opposite to the door against the wall, the wall was filled with Polaroids Nubbins had taken at the slaughter house and of you. "Aren't you going to eat?" Nubbins said to you from the door. You gave him a look. "Definitely not! I'll starve before I eat whatever your crazy family killed!" Nubbins frowned a bit. "Fine! Starve." He stuck his tongue out at you then slammed the door shut. After a while Nubbins came back and got in bed pushing you over so you were against the wall. You huffed not wanting to be in his presence. You hated him, he took you away and forced you to live in this hellhole. You felt him wrap his arm around you and push his face into your side. "Get off me." You said in a stern tone. Of course he didn't listen to you or paid you away attention.

You closed your eyes for a little bit but as the clock ticked Nubbins grip on you loosened. Noticing you quickly thought of a plan to escape, this was your only chance at fully escaping. Nubbins didn't sleep like this a lot, he was in a deep sleep. Deep enough you were able to slip out from underneath his head and was able to move his arm off of you. Carefully you crawled off the end of the bed. This was to perfect to get caught putting on shoes so you went barefoot. Smiling to yourself for your small victory it all came crashing down when you moved a bit to fast, hitting the edge of Nubbins crappy desk causing one of his skulls to fall to the ground. "Darlin?" Nubbins whispered out in his raspy, sleepy voice. You looked at him and in a brisk moment you wanted to comfort him. 'What are you doing? Go!' you said to yourself. You ran downstairs hearing Nubbins not to far behind you. "Bubba! Bubba!" Nubbins yelled. Running to the front door you pulled and pushed not being able to open it. Seeing Nubbins on the stairs you ran to the back only to be met with Bubba sliding the metal door open. You duck knowing he would swing something at you and of course you were right. "Don't hurt her! Just get her!" Nubbins yelled grabbing the hammer out of Bubba's hands as you ran to the backdoor. Nearly falling through the door you were back on your feet. Hearing that godforsaken chainsaw you stopped in your tracks looking around for a place to hide. "Got ya!" Nubbins grabbed your arm, scaring you since it was like he fell out of thin air. Screaming you quickly punched him causing him to let you go. You ran and hid in-between two old Volkswagen bugs. But of course that didn't help Bubba found you and so did his saw. You screamed and cried as Bubba would get the saw super close to you then back off. You tried to move back kicking your legs to push you back but you were stuck, there was no where to go. It was just you, Bubba, and that saw. "Nubbins!" You screamed and cried. "Stop it!" You felt like you were going to go insane. As Bubba got closer he lifted the saw so it was only inches away from your face. "Stop it Bubba! You're scarin her!" Nubbins yelled causing Bubba to lower the saw and cut it off. Bubba grunted and made a few noises hear and there as to ask Nubbins why. You cried covered in dirt and sweat. "You hit me." Nubbins said frowning at you. "Nubs" you cried giving him a nickname not even realizing you were calling on him for help. "Go! You scared her!" Nubbins yelled at Bubba. "Whats going on out here!" Drayton yelled. "Its nothing!" Nubbins yelled starring at you. "She try to escape again!" Drayton yelled. "I said its nothing! We'll handle this! You're just the cook!" Nubbins yelled at Drayton. You cried as you slowly stood up shaking from what just happened. Watching them fight you realized Nubbins was the only one who kept you safe. Yeah he was rough from time to time and threatened you but overall he was the nicest one towards you. He said he wouldn't hurt you and he kept that promise. Now it was your turn, would you use him for protection or give him what he desperately needed? Love.

______________________________________________________________

Hey! I hope you liked it, Thank you again for the request! Of course if its not to your likely please request again! Either way I loved writing this and hope you enjoyed!

#request #my wriring #request open #slasher fucker #slasher fanfiction #slasher requests #nubbins sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader #tcm nubbins #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you

[adalwolfgang]

May I ask for headcannons of slashers (mostly Norman, Lester, and Nubbins) with a S/O who has a stutter?

Slashers with a s/o who stutters

Warnings: none I could really spot except fluff?

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

Norman Bates 7/10

He won’t judge you for it. Mainly he judges himself, assuming you can’t talk comfortably around him but that’s why communication is a good thing when it a relationship right? Just remind him that it’s not exactly his fault and that you overall cannot help but to stutter or scramble your speech.

Lester Sinclair 8.7/10

He’ll tease you a lil’ bit but not a whole lot, especially if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like his teasing. In some moments he might get frustrated when he can’t understand you and what you’re trying to say, but it’s the same with with his gibberish. If he ever does (rarely) snap at you, he quickly apologizes. He might even try and help you stutter less if possible.

Nubbins Sawyer 6.7/10

Again like the others, he doesn’t really care. Hell, sometimes he stutters too! Only thing “worse” about him is his teasing. Unlike Lester, his teasing won’t stop. He’ll tease the hell out of you for it. If you bark back, teasing about his stutter, he’ll just laugh along with you. (Internally he is embarrassed)

#norman bates x reader #norman bates #psycho 1960 #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair house of wax #house of wax x reader #nubbins x reader #nubbins sawyer #tcm x reader #slashers headcanons #slashers x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you

[slasher-male-wife]

Updated slashers comforting their S/O when they come to them  crying

I’ve been feeling like shit for a good while now man. It sucks super hard but writing does make me feel better. This honestly kinda helped me. I hope this helps some of you guys too :) probably gonna be a part one tbh. 

Includes: Brahms Heelshire, Sinclair brothers, and the Sawyer brothers

Brahms Heelshire

When he finds you crying he’s gonna be so worried about you. 

His first instinct is to assume you’re hurt or in physical pain. When you explain it’s emotional he won’t totally understand. 

But he’ll still be there to help comfort you. 

He’ll hold you close and tight and bring you his doll, a comfort item for him. He won’t let you of you until he’s positive that you’re ok and that you’re not upset anymore. 

If you’re like really crying like ‘Hereditary’ levels of crying he’s gonna get stress and to be honest cry too. 

If it’s really intense he’ll take off his mask and just press his forehead on yours, wiping away any tears on your face. 

After crying you’re getting put on watch for awhile until he knows you’re fine. Also probably tea or hot chocolate or whatever drink you want. 

Vincent Sinclair

When you come to him crying he’s dropping whatever he’s doing to rush over to you to make sure that you’re ok. 

He’s checking you all over for anything and sitting you down. 

Once you explain it’s mental and or emotional he’ll understand. 

He’ll try to get you to get the emotions out by writing or making something. If you don’t wanna do that he’ll offer you art he’s made when he’s sad in hopes you can relate to it. 

He’ll have you lay on his chest and let you cry your lungs out into his sweater, not giving a shit about the tears. He’ll stroke your back and make sure that you’re comfortable. 

Once you’re done crying you’re getting water and something to eat. He’ll sit with you until you at least take a small sip of water. 

He hates it when you cry so he’ll make sure to let you get it out fast. 

Lester Sinclair

He’s not gonna know what to do. He’s always been the one running to Bo and Vincent when he was in tears so someone crying to him is gonna be new. 

The worry will grow when it’s not physical pain you’re dealing with. He’ll quickly sit you on the couch or on the bed before doing anything else. 

He’ll try to make a few light jokes to see if that works. Even a small smile is a win to him. 

He’ll call you every pet name under the sun and keep his hands and or arms on you all the time. 

He’s gonna hug you while you cry. Holding the back of your head and making sure you don’t feel bad for doing this with him. 

“It’s ok darlin. I’m here for ya. Just cry as much as ya need.” 

Once you calm down Jonesy is gonna be with the two of you, just for extra support. 

He’s gonna double up the affection for the next few days just in case. But he already gives you so much love you don’t know how much more he can give you. 

Bo Sinclair

Oh boy he’s gonna feel awkward. He doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions too well to be honest so helping you is gonna worry him. 

After identifying what it is his first idea will be to get you to do what he does when he’s angry and that’s go into the woods and throw knives at a little target he set up himself. 

If you’re not feeling that he’ll sit there quietly while you lay on his lap and sob it out. He’ll stroke your back or your hair while you cry. 

He hates seeing you like this. He hates when anyone he loves cry’s to be honest. When victims do it he honestly kinda likes it. But seeing his lovely S/O crying pains him. 

“Ya know I wish I knew what to say to help ya. I’m not real good with words sometimes. But I do love you darlin. Cry as much as ya need to.” 

Once you’re done he’ll wipe away any remaining tears, kiss your forehead and get you some water. 

After you come to him the first time he’s gonna ask his brothers about how to help you next time you come to him crying. 

The Sawyer brothers

Bubba will run up to you and hug you tight when he sees the tears in your eyes. Nubbins will sit next to you and Bubba and also hold you sort of while you cry. 

After you tell them whats wrong Nubbins and Chop Top are gonna try to empathize with you on your issues. 

They might not use the best words to describe it but they’ll try. 

Bubba will bring in one of his emotional support chickens for you to pet and Nubbins will pay you lots of compliments. 

“A pretty person like you shouldn’t be sad. You shouldn’t have to feel this bad.” 

For once Chop Top will shut up and be quiet. He’ll offer soothing strokes on your back and try to tell you some of the dumbest jokes ever. Even dumber than the concept of nft’s. 

Nubbins and Chop Top will find little things around the house to try and cheer you up. I think there’d be lots of like teeth, marbles and coins. 

Once you’re done crying Bubba will wipe away your tears and the twins will find something to help you stay in a better mood. Probably find a movie for you to watch with them. 

#brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer x y/n #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #house of wax #sinclair brothers #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #slasher #slashers #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[melodrama-ticcc]

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ʳᵃᵖᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ.

—

Strapping arms mottled in scarred, calloused skin accompany the faintest scent of the ashen, stale smoke of woody tobacco from the cigarettes he smoked and the oddments of fresh linens — the same ones he laid upon just five minutes prior. It’s a bitterly comforting scent, the acridity of herbaceous nuances and the pleasantries of simple, clean laundry detergent meet their match in the assuaging nose of musk that followed him down the drive.

He’s austere and tenacious, a valiant leader in times of great hardship and need. His stalwart determination and carnal instinct to staunchly protect his people and come to her aid would only showcase how strong and worthy of a man he was. The way his lusty figure strides with a fierce purpose and fervent motivation, his visage making it all the more evident how grave her fallen endeavor was to him. In other circumstances, perhaps it would have made her heart flutter with avid concupiscence. His virile persona and dauntless attitude a beautiful depiction of the true man Johnny Sawyer was, one gallant, stouthearted and resolute.

It was no wonder girls swooned over him and sluts threw themselves at him in forlorn and desperate attempts to be bed, for if it hadn’t been his manful character it would be his animal good looks. A brawny physique like his was enough to make any young girl drool, but the way in which his work ethic displayed itself was all the more impressive. Resolute and undaunted, characterized by the intransigent persona he carried. Unshaken, indurate, purposive, a strong and protective man who served to remedy her from this mess. A mean stare, a cold shoulder, a flagrant saunter, those pretty dark eyes shrouded by the chocolate lashes that surrounded them make him nothing short of an enigma, a breath taking image of the dangerous and allusive. Any imperfections were overshadowed by the illusion of his angelic smile, even the slight bend in his nose; presumably from being broken at some point.

It’s a wonder she’s not feinting at his virile demeanor, but then again, the predicament at hand makes itself out to be much more prevalent then her precognitions. Still overcome with grief and the weight of her grave mistake, Rebecca sporadically makes the trip back to the front drive of her farmhouse. With trembling appendages wrapped thickly in her blonde hair and tugging at the follicles, her quivering lips spurt incoherencies even she cannot make out. Something about screwing everything up and not tying down loose ends, what a damn mess this had become.

Heavy is the hand that takes refuge on the small of her back, a gentle reminder that he’d been alongside her all that time. The simple gesture is enough to cease her thoughtless blabbering and pull her from the demented pool of self deprecation she’d imbedded herself in. He was there now, it would be okay.

“Now you tell me just what it is that happened, calmly.”

She opens those pretty pink lips, only for the breath to get caught in her throat and hitch itself as she stammers on her own thoughts. Reliving the moments in her head, she thinks back to what it had been like when she was still at the bar in Pfluegerville, and whether she should have just asked Johnny for help from the very beginning. But nah, that ruined all the fun.

The events of the evening play about her mind like the films she saw on the television alongside her father, a horrid moving picture show of the macabre and inhumane. It’s strange, the feeling, as though she were watching herself from the outside, as if she were the movie star in this grotesque drama of the diseased and grisly. However as she stood there, going through the frightfully wonderful acts she’d committed that night the sensation of delight pangs at her heart, and with it the fluttery feeling that burgeons in the pit of her stomach. She can’t believe she’s actually done it.

“I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill a boy. I don’t know I-I-I brought home a boy.” She starts, sapphire eyes gazing blankly in the far off distance as she speaks frantically, face still wet with the tears of her hysteria. The fear of what’s to come picking at her from the inside out, she wonders if he’s disappointed in her. “I meant to fucking do it! He just- this was all on purpose, he just- he- I hate him. I hate him so much he-I- he’s just like Matthias, just like him I swear I aughtta- no, no, I lured him into the wash but I wasn’t there, I waited, I waited so patiently. Everything was so perfect- everything- I did so good and then I just- and I just-.”

“Stop.” Johnny hushes, watching the tears well and drip down her face before he’s got her cheek by the palm again, flicking away those pesky tears with the pad of his thumb. “Be good, tell me what happened darlin’.”

She sharply inhales, a stabbing pain itching at her side as she battles the hyperventilations that accompany her heightened state. Those arms are hoisted back up over her head, grasping onto the hair and pulling as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded, the single thing holding her back from going absolutely insane. A pitiful sob falls from her lips, and just as it does the cacophony of the smack! that besmirches her cheek ceases it all. The stinging burn of Johnny’s hand sets her on fire, the red imprint of his fingers etched into her cheek. She gasps, eyes wide with shock before she looks to him with anger and a newfound sense of relief.

“I said be good ain’t I? Now quit actin’ a damn fool and spit it out, we gon’ catch this fucker but I need you to get that damn head of ya’s on straight, you got that?”

“I-I-I-I forgot.” She cries, prying at the hair on her head. Dazed sure, somewhat clear, his smack wasn’t hard but it sure did knock her straight. “I hit that bitch, I hit ‘em with my axe- yeah. I don’t know how many times, I don’t. No- Yeah- yeah. I sliced his shoulder, and then I cut ‘em up real good, and I cut his damned dick off too. But- I-I messed up I didn’t know- he hurt me! My head! He pushed me down the damn stairs that’s it- how’d I let it happen! No- no I meant it, Johnny, he hurt me!” Her screams pitch high and she feels belligerent, grasping onto his shoulders with a degrading type of need. “Please help me Johnny please, I was wrong I can’t do it without ya’. I’m scared, I’m scared, I need help. I need your help.”

Those rough hands of his rake through the tangled lengths of her hair, not before brushing the flyaway strands from her eyes and grazing over the soft skin of her lips.

“I’ll find ‘em, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

The words spoken from his lips alone are enough to quell the anxieties that plague her, a perpetual aura of calm washing over when he gazes through her and speaks it. In anxious anticipation, she watches patiently as he pushes past her and acts to examine the porch and the front area of the house, only to let out a soft chuckle when he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here. Come ‘ere.” He points to the ground in front of him, crouching down as he swipes the spot and nods up at her. “Footprints. They’s faint as hell, but they there. Gotta look closely when they get away, theys slippery little bastards I give ‘em that, but you can always catch ‘em. Now you tell me, where you think that trail leads off to?”

Suddenly the weight of it all comes thwarting down onto her, the pressure seeping through her as her face turns a bright pink. She squats, carefully analyzing the very thing Johnny had been talking about and making out the trajectory of the steps. Her swollen eyes squint just a tad, not before they look back up to him seeking some sort of approval.

“Well? He ain’t of gone far.”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t.”

“Think now, think with that there head of yer’s. I know you’s more than a nice lookin’ face.”

Rebecca obliges his orders, her gaze shifting to the ground where the puddles of crimson and dusty footprint resides. Despite his words she only becomes more flustered, eaten half alive by the plaguing thoughts of her anxieties and presumed failures. She’s desperate for help, not a damn lesson, there wasn’t much time to be wasted. So, concluding no clear answer and growing wary of the looming fear over her shoulder she shakes her head, throws her hands up and shouts.

“Please, I-I can’t. It’s just one shitty damn footprint- there’s no fuckin’ point.”

“Tch, ways I see it you can follow the direction of that there print, possibility there’s a trail, you got ‘em leakin’ after all. Or, miss thang, you put yourself in your target’s shoes.” Johnny doesn’t move, only stares at her, waiting. “You start thinkin’ like yer’ prey, things’ll get a whole lot easier for ya’.”

She stops, blue irises blown out as she looks to him in disbelief. It’s an epiphany, of sorts. A sort of realization in his words, think like the prey. Reluctantly she picks up the pieces and sutures herself together, able to make some string of coherent thoughts. Her head turns towards the side yard, thinking deliberately in the eyes of that damn boy. It seemed the most intelligent outcome would be to run up the front drive, however, that’s all most sure the first place anyone would look. So to avoid suspicion and buy more time, he had to of run elsewhere. Perhaps through the brush against the sides of their land, or more likely the back where they’d keep the cattle.

“I uh- looks to me like he ran off someplace out ‘n to the back, only thing back there is the cattle fields and wild life.” She says, the tinge of uncertainty in her voice a demonstration of her willingness to please. Johnny smiles wide, gesturing to her with his head as he strides forward.

“Well, let’s see how right you are ‘bout that.”

“I thought he’d made it out to the road and got away, thought I was done for.” She stands up straight, hands shaking at her sides when her vision fogs with tears. She sniffles, hastily wiping the underneath of her nose as she stares forward at the vacant trail of dusty footprints and spattered blood. “He made a damn fool of me.” Her hands ball into fists and her brows dive into a scowl. “Why I gotta be so shitty at it, alls I wanted to do was prove I could do the damn job.”

“Rebecca,” Johnny warns, grabbing at the wrist that reaches for her axe. “Come on pretty girl, you got a natural knack for this sort of thing.” Her eyes meet his gaze and she frowns, only to smile a sad smile at his words.

“You really think so?”

“Ah come on now darlin’,” he grins, tucking his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I know so. Don’t you think I know a thing or two ‘bout killin’, ain’t bad for ya’ first time, all by your lonesome.”

“Yeah? Yeah . . . And I’ll make ‘em pay- yeah- where ever that little fucker is he’s mine.” Through teary eyes she smiles at him, and somewhere in there she feels as though she’s earned his approval. His words worth more than any consolation killing Matthew could provide. She looks to him and he quiets the never-ending thoughts in her head, he takes away the need to fret about anything and gives her the thing she craves most, that warming look of praise and gratitude. It replaces that need for control, at least temporarily, and she knows then it’ll all be okay. Even as his demeanor changes and he thwarts her forwards. Her steps stumbling into themselves as she looks to him in infatuation, only before she presses on with a determined effort to keep him appeased.

“Now quit standin’ round lookin’ pretty and get a move on girl.”

A muddied track of stammered prints planted into the wet earth and heaps of blood splattered about the dirt lead to a quick chase, one that takes them through a spastic path of snapped branches and fallen foliage, plants crushed and broken in the wake of her running victim. Inevitably, he met his demise at the swimming hole long ago, truth be told by his cold, lifeless corpse at the bottom of the dried out pool.

He must’ve ran off in a dazed state, in shock from the trauma endured and the blood loss of his wounds. Without realizing the dip in the land led to a ten foot tumble down a steep hill into the ole hole, where his carcass lie sprawled out and mangled. A bloodied bath towel partly covering his nude and mutilated body, she’s disgusted by him. A pathetic excuse of a man who hadn’t even the manners to hold the door open for her.

At first she’s relieved, fully, and a bit proud too. She’d like to claim she knew she was the superior being, the one who’d win this charade, but given the turn of events it became clear she’d need to plan much more carefully. One thing was certain; never underestimate the victim.

But then, as she stood there, gazing over his pale corpse with a look of disdain written in her features, she becomes angry. The predilections of the last hour or so coming back to her in a raging fit. At the end of it all, he had taken away the satisfaction in beheading him. He still ruined it, and despite the cruel fact she’d reign supreme; she sought vengeance over the life that had already been reaped.

“Well well well, not bad at all for a first time.” His voice beckons her from her thoughts, not enough to alleviate her passion for violence and ultimate satisfaction. This was it, this was where she’d feel that cathartic release, the feeling of control coming back to her.

“You slimy little bitch.” Heavy footsteps March down that steep hill, gripping the splintering wood handle of her axe, she pauses, chewing at her lower lip as she watches the breathless corpse with pure hatred and animosity. “Fuck you.” She spits, watching the coagulated wad of saliva splat against his bare skin. The warmth of tears riddle the cusp of her eyes and she feels the emotions gurgling back up, only this time it’s pure anger and a feral inkling for revenge. Letting out a flustered scream Becca lurches the axe over her head, only to scream again when she sends it down onto his neck. “Rot in hell you son of a bitch! You deserve it like the rest of ‘em!” Again, a powerful swing halfway severs his neck in two, his head hanging on by a few torn ligaments and flesh. Blood sprays each time she swings; painting her a vibrant crimson and plastering over the grass they sit upon. Again, a third time she hoists the thing up over her head and contracts her muscles to swing it downward with all her might, the blade entirely separating his body from his head. Which rolls some couple feet away. She pauses, screaming out in great relief as she laughs about his dead body, hysterically, like a mad woman who’d lost her way. She spits again, this time crouching over the head and making sure it lands over his face.

“Like a lamb to the slaughter.”

She picks it up, gripping a handful of the bloodied dark hair that sits upon its head. She holds it up, examining his features before she squeezes the puffed out cheeks and fronts a frown.

“Lookit here, lookit who stands on top. The strong, not the coward.” Smiling widely she throws the thing to the ground with a sharp arm, screaming out something incoherent between her bouts of delighted laughter.

It exorcises the demons within her, does away with all the bad thoughts of yesterday and brings in a newfound joy she never knew she’d discover. It frees her of the need to take hold of trivial matters and emotions, purges the very concept of her idea of control and replaces it with something new, something exciting, something erotic. It arouses her beyond belief and fulfills the sensation she craved so violently, quells the aching throb in her soul and makes it feel full. For the first time in a long time, she feels happy, she feels full, she feels satiated.

Gripping the hand of that axe just a little tighter she screams fervently, smiling like a madwoman. Blissful tears pool at the edge of her pretty eyes, looking up to the starry night sky as she laughs in hysterics. She forgets Johnny’s there, forgets he’d been watching the entire thing with the pleased look he wore. But he strides over to her, taking her wrists in hopes of calming her down and bringing her from that high.

“You sure are as good as I knew you’d be, I told ya’,” he says, pulling her arms back down only for her to look at him with a face of disbelief. “I like watchin’ you do all that, that kinda thing really gets a man goin’, you know that?”

Dazed and excited she looks to her counterpart with a trebled stare, eyes wet and wide with enjoyment and a profound look of thought over her features. She thinks his words over, and though it aggravates her, pesters at her self respect, she cannot help but ponder the thought of cutting into him, making an example of him. One more time, one more time and she’d reach that ultimate high.

“I’m the one with the axe, all alone out here, in the middle of no where . . . . with nobody else about.”

“Oh Becca,” Johnny shakes his head, “You threatenin’ me?” He wastes no time in making his point, patting over the hunting knife tucked into his waistband. “I said you wasn’t bad, not damn near perfect. Think I’m scared of that?”

“I’d like to do it again,” sure his comment pisses her off, and she feels the regurgitating feeling of fury pit in her stomach and rise through her throat like hot air. He doesn’t believe in her, that’s upsetting. Doesn’t take her seriously. But she’s only thinking aloud, saying the inside part outside, staring blankly at him as she toys with the splintered handle of her toy.

To think of how fondly it made her feel, even with her frenzied state of self control and madness. How pleasurable it made her feel both inside and out, her mind in pure ecstasy and core in tight coils. She’d love to do it again, love to watch the fear on his face and the blood spurt out in pretty scarlet splatters. It’s a high she keeps on riding, the ever present feeling of tension arising between her legs. Sinful maybe, but she thinks the thought alone might drive her over the edge. How powerful and dangerous she could be, the superiority over the boys she loathed so much, so perfect, it all felt so lovely. If she could just show him what she was capable of, show him how powerful she could be. She could make a splendid example of him.

Her body moves before her head forms a thought, scrounging her face up tightly as she lifts the axe over her head. Without thinking she swings downward, not with the intent to kill but the intent to make an example of her point. She was every bit a danger as he was.

The blade comes crashing down to land suspended in the air, the uppermost part of its handle caught by his big hand. Riddled with shock and disbelief she gasps, eyes wide in both fear and anger as he tears the thing from her grasp and chucks it out somewhere into the night. She can hear it smash into the wet earth, but her focus is elsewhere, observing the angry look plastered over Johnny’s face.

“Well lookit this, somebody’s ready to fight.” He’s as sly as the fox hunting it’s prey, clasping her wrist as he waves that knife in front of her face and presses it carelessly against her neck. “Let’s not forget who had to come out all this way and help ya’, you still got lots to learn darlin’, best to quit makin’ a fool of yourself. But uh, you sure do turn me on.” His lips lean into her neck and press sensual kisses along the dirtied skin, sliding wet up to her ear where his teeth graves over the tender skin. Enough to entice her, draw her in, and yet yer stubbornness reigns supreme.

Be it the residual effects of the distaste and anger towards Matthew or the genuine disbelief in his words and actions somethings stirs in Becca, ticking off the bomb that orates her brain and causing her left brow to twitch in the wake of her fury. Instinctively it is in her nature to attack him, striking those strong arms and pushing him backwards. Delicate features twisting into a heinous display of fulmination; where her brows tilt downwards and her eyes swirl with rage. Those kissable lips pulling downwards in some sort of inveighed image. Once Johnny steps back, she can see the anger beckon him too. His own handsome face somewhere along the lines of both shocked and disrespected.

“How dare you.” Those are fighting words, and without a second thought she grapples him, arms intertwining in a battle of dominance and power. His own expostulation is evident in the way he glares at her, with a visage written in disapproval and denouncement.

“You best watch that attitude of yours girl, lest you wanna be gettin’ into trouble- now quit it.” His firm grip can be felt against her shoulders, his reach much larger than her own despite her strength. His thick fingers dig into the skin of her shoulders and he pulls her forward, all the while she’s clawing at his biceps like a feral cat, groaning and hissing as she struggles to keep him at bay.

“You aughtta learn to keep your mouth shut boy.” She warns, tussling herself when her body begins to thrash about his grip. Likewise she meets him with that same competence, only falls short in getting the upper hand that his tight grasp has over her.

Johnny laughs, the same laugh that is demented and evil and downright demeaning. Like he’s toying with his food, or playing a childish game. The disgust held for him bubbles up again, and she’s half but forgotten all his benevolent qualities and his status as a worthy counterpart and leader. Only does it come back to her when he yanks her closer, staring into those equivocal eyes. She whines, cries out in a desperate attempt to push herself from him to no avail. This time his hand clutches a handful of the dirtied hair at the back of her head, the other tightening down on her wrist as he lurches her forward. She begins to cry; not because she’s afraid or unwilling, but because of the tumultuous nature of her consciousness. Both enchanted and disdainful of him, timid in her affairs and the lingering of his scent in her nose and closeness of his touch.

The tears come sopping down her cheeks when she screams out, in one last vociferous attempt to free herself from him. Her hands move to push against his face, pawing at it and shoving him away. Between grunts of frustration and anger Johnny pulls her towards him stridently, prising her hand away and biting at the other. Her yell is scornful when she jerks it away, and finally he takes the advantage of the clearance and forcefully closes the gap between them, their lips sealing in an ardent kiss potent in impassioned desire and earnest lust.

At first it’s apoplectic, acrimonious and powered by the incensed nature of each of their perspectives. A splenetic, rough and messy kiss imbedded with the bittersweet passion that resides in them. Then her expression lightens, her forceful nature dwindling as time pressed on. Her limbs go limp in his grasp, fingers stretching out in a strained state and she leans into his touch with an inkling for more. Where she is soft and tender, he is callous and brusque. Then it is reciprocated, quiet sobs breaking the seal between their lips when she cries. Those hot tears sear down her cheeks; she hates the way she loves it, despises the way it excites her, the way his words gift a fluttery feeling inside her. The way her head swirls with adulate emotions her actions follow suit, head feeling dizzy with those foreign feelings of pleasure and bliss, a resentful delightment. Even when the heat of her face and upset overpowers the touch of his palm over her cheek, she loves it. Or when he forcibly wipes the burning tears away with his thumb, his palm squishing the flesh of her cheek together as he does so.

There is an arcane sense about the ghost of his touch or the bitter cold of his kiss, not electrifying, not warm, it brings about a certain piercing sensation. After which her body feels numb and tingly, brumal from the ice that was his grasp. And all the while, the gelid feeling is peculiarly comforting. In an odd, backwards sort of way. His bitterness cooled her fire, and in many ways she would feel at peace after the initial bite of his touch. It would all fade into a stultifying, tingling feeling; one of pure peace and contentment, sangfroid.

Her heat melts into him, giving into the temptation and stumbling into him just slightly. Fingers still twitching in aggravation, they pry away to clasp at his shoulders, gripping onto them with such need and fervor. It is a violently passionate kiss, one that finely captures the line between adoration and the utter barbarity shared between them. Her eyes are scrunched shut painfully, and it isn’t until now that she relaxes. Her tense figure falling into his broad one like the gazelle the lion, the bunny the fox, or the lamb the slaughter.

He is vicious, cutthroat and relentless, each movement like a stab to the heart when he gnaws and bites and rubs at her raw lips. It makes it all the more delightful, that is until she reacts with that same intensity.

It isn’t lost on her how absolutely loathsome he is or how demented he might be, how everything that had led up to this moment was one combative argument over the next. But the way he looks after her and comes to her aide even without being asked to far overshadows the reality between them. It was then that in her eyes, he became the man she was so revered with, the one she trusted enough with her life, the one who’d truly take care of her. And still; she hates how perfect he really is.

Despite her endless mental battles or the back and fourth of her thoughts, and even the kill that had so nicely satiated the hunger for control she could no longer quell, it all comes rushing back in that instant. The terrorizing phenomenon of her looming thoughts and lost consciousness; she can no longer differentiate what she wants versus what she feels, and the daunting feeling drives her into a deeper panic. The need to kill regains traction, and she cannot deter whether she loathes or loves Johnny Sawyer.

Flustered and angry once more, Rebecca pulls away from him and with her newfound freedom levers her strength against him and pushes him back. Only Johnny has caged her into his arms, and now she freaks, thrashing her body against him and screaming, crying and sobbing miscellaneous threats and whines his way. Those tears burn her stained cheeks once more, and for a passing second the lightheaded feeling that overtakes her makes her feel as though she may faint. But it’s his soothing southern drawl and wintry touch that polarizes her. Now she stirs, succumbing to defeat when she tucks her face into his chest. There she sobs quietly, cupping her hands carefully around her face as her body wracks with the overwhelming urge in her. Johnny hushes quietly, his roughened touch grazing over the knots in her hair and patting over her trembling head. Her figure blurs into his, racking with the tumultuous thoughts that ill her head. She doesn’t have to say a thing; he knows. He proudly tells her it too, through the serene grin on his lips and the simple words from his lips. He knows he’s won, and it isn’t a question of if, now of when.

“Shhhhh, I know . . . I know.”

Her body shakes with vehemence, oscillating in his arms. Even when he cautiously rubs the small of her back, in hopes of calming her incessant cries and restless breathing there is no avail, no indication of even a thought behind those teary baby blues. But he knows, he knows too well.

“When’s ya’ daddy get home?”

“‘Bout another day or so, I reckon.”

“You go on ‘n get the inside fixed up, clean yer’ self up.” Her swollen red lip quivers and she feigns innocence, cradling herself into his big strong arms. Soft eyes glazing over in a wave of calm, she nods her head. “I’ll be gone a little while, stay inside ‘till I get back, you understand?”

Rebecca’s nod is lento and messy, her trembling arm reaching up to dance over the roughness of his cheek. She moves lethargically, pushing herself off of him as she maneuvers away.

Stammering back in a haze she sniffles quietly, nodding briefly before she turns to run up the steep hill and back to the front of the house. Her wary gaze quickly glancing behind to meet Johnny’s lingering stare. One shrouded in his perturbed features and stern leer.

Thick pools of crimson veil the wood floorboards of the house’s fanciful interior, plashes of it spattered along the ivory curtains that hang from the front door and alongside the white walls. The purity of it tarnished with the devil’s wrath, the home bathed in a thick and nasty smell of iron and bloodshed. Up the stairs and down the hall the scarlet bespatters the hand woven tundy rug that lines the grand hallway, and dowses the linen shower curtain that hangs pitifully by a thread. The hot water has long run cold, still spilling the remnants of blood that ooze from the severed anatomy in the tub down the drain in a tumultuous spinning cycle. There, in that dreadful bath, the once steamed mirrors are soused in the rich fluid, curating some abstract painting of the obscene and bizarre. The blood-slopped walls that intertwine with the water droplets that cling to the drywall the additions to such a mundane collection. She was never artful, and yet there was merit to that bathroom saturated in the viscous and gummy liquid that adorned those walls.

There is a looming consternation in her, one birthed from the disaster that had become the home and the inevitable disappointment her father might have felt for her; if he were to see such a gruesome scene. And yet, the staunch opposition of the luminous red against the stark white of the washroom was a peculiarly pleasant reminder of her achievement. There was some beauty to that grimey image, a stunning picture of the dreadful and tragic, the horror and fatale.

It is with a heavy head that she scrubs at the floor boards, bleaches the walls and rips the lace curtains from the door to drench them in the same liquid. Eyes wet and vision blurred, her hair matted in a tossled heap, her tremulous figure haunches over the steps of the stairs and the stretches over the sticky walls. Red goo staining the bucket of bleach and water. The bathroom, to which she debated savoring in, had proved most daunting. Yet the years of homemaking had done her well, and in no time it had been just as spotless as it had been before. The only remnant of the affair the bloodied wash bucket and stained gloves and sponges, and Matthew’s manhood dumped into that same murky bucket.

Cold water lathers into the nest that had become her hair and drizzles down the length of her body, gliding over the skin and washing away with it the dried blood and clumped pieces of scab that nestled into the fresh cuts. She sits against the porcelain floor of the tub, staring blankly at a tile wall that seems to distance itself further and further away from her. So far that she can’t seem to touch it, not even with the tips of her elongated fingers. As it moves further from her, her vision spins and her thoughts become loud. Before shutting her eyes and tilting her head to face the downpour of icey water. The feeling of ice pelting at her skin brings fourth the events of the evening, and she relives the moments of pleasure elicited from the look or torment and fear in Matthew’s eyes, in them Matthias, two boys who’d she’d come to despise with such fervor. Cathartic, euphoric, renascence, the rebirth of her own self. A more informed, liberated self not suffocated by the grip in which those boys grasped onto her. And yet, the pleasure of it all seemed to bludgeon a knot in her abdomen, a tingling sensation of bliss that called to her from regions below. A moan, then two, or three, and the revitalizing feelings of her intricate fingers drawing against herself in sporadic motions. All most as soon as it had began, the tension snapped and relief became her, a newfound sense of sexual repentance and divinity birthed straight from the act itself. Her fantasy was no longer that, it was a beautiful memory.

Clean hair neatly detangled and dripping wet spots onto the back of the tank top she now wore, she sits at the vanity mirror in her room, gracefully running the bristles of the silver brush through her tresses as she stares blankly into the mirror. Purplish bruises taint over the skin of her arms, indication of Matthew’s attempt to fight. The back of her head aches, and a tender bump finds it’s place there. The cause behind her lingering headache.

She slips into a pair of cotton shorts, only to find Matthew’s clothes sprawled out over the floor next to her bedside. One moment dazed, she’s now flustered, abhorrent at her inability to properly dispose of them. She decides, rather than burning them, utilizing their pieces as scrap fabric is much more useful. Yet, the desire to completely eliminate his presence there resides in her. It’s then, as she’s grasping the fabric of his trousers in her hands and prying at the thing that she glances toward the clock. 3:24 am.

One couldn’t help but wonder where that time had gone, how the events of the night surpassed that which she thought capable. The frustration looms, and the bitterness picks at her insides like vultures. She succumbs to the mental battle once again, handing over the defeat as the remnant tears cloud her vision and drip down into the fabric she held. Where was Johnny, how had he held up?

Vexation is an ugly thing, and yet as it consumes her and Becca becomes maddened by the terrors her shortcomings ail, she is all the more fascinating. As she hurriedly clasps together all the pieces of clothing — from his undergarments to his shoes, and frantically stumbles down the stairs shouting incoherent sobs. The swelling at her eyes and stinging of her cheeks are near numb, null in comparison to the dinging in her head and turbulent thoughts.

It always seemed as though Johnny had perfect timing, always stepping in at the right moments. This had been one of those times, when he turns the knob to that front door and steps inside just as she’s about to reach for the damned thing. He’s tall, seems so much bigger than she remembered him to be, more muscular, more dominant. There she stands doe eyed, tears trickling down her cheeks as she furrows her brows. She watches him with a saddened look, his critical countenance meeting her with an ominous look. He locks the deadbolt on the door, then the barrel bolt. The slinking of the metal click echoes in her ears and she feels like stone, petrified in her place. He’s dirty, muddied up and partly bloody.

“It’s done.” He’s stern. “He’s gone, you ain’t gotta worry bout him no more darlin’.”

Johnny steps forward, meeting her halfway.

“The clothes,” a whisper. “I need to burn the clothes. I have to.”

“No.”

“Okay.” She hushes.

“I’ll take ‘em. Head back upstairs.” Without another word he takes them from her.

It’s some unspoken thing, the way she feels at peace with his words, like she can believe anything he tells her. It brings her to ease, quells her anxieties and it’s as though anything she’d thought prior was only a faint memory. She hadn’t the need to question him, ask how or why, nor had she the desire. Only basqued in the comfort of knowing he’d maintain that control for her. It’s the comfortability he instills in her that introduces the thought, one in which falls from her lips in saccharine toxicity.

“Johnny?” It’s a quiet plea, her head turns back around and she ceases in her place down the foyer. Through a strained voice to calls for him, riddled with newfound joy, grief and love and struggling to juggle them all. “Stay.” She pauses. “Stay with me, stay the night, here, will you? Stay, just for tonight. I’d like you to stay with me. Daddy ain’t ‘round and I, I don’t wanna be alone.”

It’s that same unspoken thing, something neither of them would have been able to foresee. A certain degree of knowing and acceptance, a mutual understanding, a bond forged in the pits of hell.

“Please, do it for me?” Johnny watches her with eyes of cynicism, as though he were trying to figure her out. He watches as her wet eyes glazed in her own despair look to him through coagulated lashes, luring him in with a pretty face. He steps toward her, moves his hand to fiddle with her hair, twirling the wet tresses in his fingers and brushing through it. Then he looks to her again, eyes narrowing with a mean look, one she’d come to know as pleasant.

“I’ll be up shortly, lemme get cleaned up first, doll.”

Some time passes before he walks into her bedroom, drawing her from her thoughts as her gaze moves from the wall to the doorway. He’s wet with the drippings from his shower. Droplets of water adorning his bare skin, dressed only in his bath towel and his hair wet and messy. He steps in, shutting the door behind him before he moves to sit atop the same bed she lay on. His gaze instantaneously meets her own, watching in thought, as though he were trying to read her own.

“How did it feel?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you killed ‘em, how’d that make ya feel?”

“I,” she heaves, “I liked it.”

“No shit,” his hand grazes over her cheek, sliding the wet strands of hair behind her ear. “I know you like it girl, been knowed you’d like it. I wanna to hear you tell me how it made you feel.”

There’s a drawn out pause in her speech. Perhaps she’s in thought, or the rugged pads of his fingertips has her leaning into him a little too much, or both. But she’s bewitched by him, entranced.

“I ‘spose it felt, like it was natural or summin’, felt, good, like I’d finally let my those urges run wild,” she speaks earnestly. “You was right ya know? Bout me bein’ a control freak, and I, him, killing him, it gave me that.” She smiles faintly, watching as he chuckles softly, shaking the bed beneath them.

“Would you do it again?” He already knows the answer to that, and Becca knows it too. He just wants to hear her say it, but she obliges his little game.

“I hated it when he got away Johnny boy, thought I’d be caught. That feeling, like a bug in ya’ drawers, it gits under my skin and I can’t take it. I just can’t do it.” She’s flustered again, upset. “Makes me mad that I couldn’t do it the way I wanted, the perfect way. But I, well, you know dear, there’s always something, the feeling doesn’t last forever. I need, I think, well, the more I think bout it all the more I’d feel like doin’ it all over again. I love that feelin’, what you call it, the power, the control over ‘em, but I hate that he got away. I can’t, thought I had everything all figured out.”

Be it the tenderness in her eyes that softened her hardened exterior or the inkling of disappointment in her voice and features when she speaks of her fears, Johnny is attentive to her expression, drawing out a prolonged sigh from his lips before he punctuates with a quiet chuckle. Muffled beneath his heavy breaths.

He appears to be some sort of sentient being, a deity, a god. The way his wet hair falls about his face and clings to the skin of his neck, the way his fingers tear into those same locks and hem they prop his head up with his elbow against the bedsheets. His eyes so solemn and resolute, quiet, intense. In all her readings, the antichrist was meant to be beautiful, like Johnny had been. A breathtaking man with undeniable charm, whose existence and evilness would bring about the end of the world. Sometimes, she felt that way about him.

But through it all there’s been something about him, and she’s convinced in the way he so daringly comes to her aide or soothes her thoughts, in his own little way, that he’s anything but demonic.

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathes out, smiling gently. “I was hopin’ you’d say summin’ like that, might of had to get rid of ya’ otherwise.” The hand that had been so tantalizingly pressed against her features grasps at her chin, pulling her face closer to his. “You’s perfect. Don’t you worry bout what’s been done with, you got a real . . . . skill. The rest, that’ll come with time, believe me.” His voice quiets.

She knows he hates repeating himself, knows it’s best to leave it at that. But her temptation as a woman rooted in her emotions gets the best of her and she just has to press on, her face inching closer as she does so, drawn in by his pleasantries.

“Tell me,” her eyes are wide with curiosity, maybe worry. “You think I could do it the way you do? Think I’d get to bein’ that good? I can’t slip up like that again you heard me boy? I can’t, I want, I want them to fear me, I want that control.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Johnny questions. “See it ain’t about what’s accordin’ to that there plan you got, it’s ‘bout the thrill of the hunt. Let ‘em have that hope, think they got a chance at livin’, let ‘em be scared, just long enough for you to take it all away from ‘em. You go ‘round plannin’ it all there ain’t nothin’ exicitin’ bout it. I like it when they run, makes it interestin’. There’s summin’ real satisfyin’ bout workin’ for the kill, makes it that much better when you cut into ‘em.”

Contemplation and confusion, then a steady realization made evident by the lift in her features. His words heavy on her mind, it is the intense emotion that comes over her at the notion of it all. Let them have hope, then take it all away.

“See, I knew that there kill of your’s wasn’t gonna be gettin’ too far, you did far too much damage to let ‘em run. These people, victims, they act stupid when they panic. Ain’t very smart, the power of fear works in your favor. That’s summin’ you ain’t come ‘round to understandin’ just yet. You gotta put the surroundings you got to good use. Ain’t expect anyone to be that good on their first time, but you, I told you you’s like me, got a real knack for this thing.”

Sapphires glossed in infatuation, a limerence so far gone that her own father could not draw her from it. She stares in awe, his words of affirmation more than enough to quell the scarcity that runs rampant in her deranged, pretty little head. What once is uncertainty, paranoia and self doubt is now contentment, relaxation and confidence. Thick wet lashes bat against the ocean in her eyes, flickering up to the tarry abyss that was his ominous gaze. She is bewitched, comforted, entranced by the masculine presence he provided.

“In fact,” the back of his roughed up hands graze her cheek, intertwining themselves into the strands of her damp hair and clutching at the back of her head. His thumb prods miscellaneous patterns into her scalp, an uncharacteristically gentle gesture that has her head spinning. “I reckon you start comin’ along with me, I’d like to show you a few things, think you’d get some real use outta it. I wanna see just what kinda stuff yer made of miss Rebecca Payne.” His smile is taunting, like the grinning leer of a demon laughing in God’s face. “Hell, maybe you and I’d make a better pair than you initially thought. Might even work better together, huh?”

Those pristine eyes narrow to look to him through fanned lashes, as if to make out what his true intentions were. But again, it becomes easier and easier to believe him. There’s no ulterior motive, he’s telling the truth. And the delight that was his presence only furthered that fluttery feeling within her. She’s made up her mind.

“Sounds mighty fine to me Johnny boy. Teach me everythin’ you know.” She’s teasing him, the way she leans in and weaves back, tilting her face up and drawing out her words in an exaggerated manner. “I should thank you, reckon there’s anyway I can repay you for tonight?” A delicate hand lands perfectly over his bare shoulder, Dainty fingertips soft like velvet and a featherlight touch that glides over the scars of his skin.

“Don’t disappoint me.” It’s blunt, his smile sort of faltering. “Show me I’m right ‘bout you.”

Her stare tender hearted, eyes lost in the callous look that was his own. She can only nod, her inhibitions incessant on abiding to his wishes, proving herself to him. And still, the grievances arisen from their past bury themselves further within the back of her mind. Slowly to become a distant memory. Her acknowledgement is signified in the sweet kiss she places upon his cheek. A gesture that is met with an intense and fervent stare, that with the hand that palms her cheek.

“Johnny boy?” There’s that angelic tone once more, beckoning him like a siren a sailor. “Hold me, would you?” He’s not the affectionate type, though the way in which she nestles the soft skin of her cheeks and the gentle touch of her Pam over his chest would only convince him to clasp his arms around her. Ensnaring her in a cage of flesh and bone, as he stares into the blank, white paneled walls of her bedroom. The night would soon pass.

The days that followed were a stark contrast to the slower ones that had prevailed prior, filled with father’s return and the herding of cattle, and Johnny’s looming presence on their property. Given the added workload the arrival of cattle had on Raymond it was no surprise that Johnny had hung around more to aide him, and it wasn’t lost on Raymond that the relationship between Rebecca and Johnny had taken an unprecedented turn, one disturbingly idyllic and peaceful, a direct counterpart to Rebecca’s less than ideal attitude towards the boy prior. All most as though it were an entirely different thing all together.

Though there were many things that took Raymond by surprise, from the moment he’d returned to that farmstead. From his daughter’s eerily steadfast smile to her seeming detachment from him. He’d partially worried something drastic had happened during those few days he was gone, something that changed her for worse. Yet again he’d chosen to be blissfully ignorant, as her attitude seemed to improve, and for the first time in a very long time she seemed content, happy. He supposed that in regards to her mood he should have been glad for her, proud even, for she’d finally managed to let free the events of the past and come to terms with the move, but deep down the lord knew he couldn’t help but feel something was so dreadfully wrong.

The way she smiled and laughed with such a free spirit when it came to that boy, or how her touch lingered just a tad too long for comfort. Hell, even the way in which she brought him cold sweet tea or a bottle of beer while they worked out in the fall sun, marking cattle and getting them all settled into their fields. It reminded him vaguely how she treated him, and it hadn’t dawned on him till then that her demeanor had entirely evolved. She hadn’t been nearly as doting as she was before, and he thought maybe he’d consider it a good thing.

It wasn’t until he’d taken notice to the murky bucket of water that sat up against the back wall of the garage, slumped into the corner behind the door that he’d truly become skeptical. He’d examined it more closely, until he saw the sight of maggots and signs of decay, floating about the reddish brown suds, he’d felt sick. A cultivation of anger and fear arose within him, and for but a moment he marched into the house with the bucket in tow, about to confront the girl on his findings. He was sure it must’ve been there some time, judging by the putrid smell. Only, when he’d seen her there, smiling peacefully as she dried the dishes she’d just cleaned and putting them up in the cupboards he felt a pang of guilt, one that quelled that anger so quick he could only turn away in shame. Must’ve been a wild animal of some sort, he was sure of it, and he’d dispose of it himself only to ask about it at a later time. He couldn’t bare the weight of trashing that illusion of hers, whatever it might’ve been.

That same evening, there’d been a knock at the door. One Raymond met with a somewhat annoyed look, only to smile once he’d seen it was Johnny Sawyer. He stood there, wearing a days worth of work and holding a six pack of beer. A good looking grin spread over his features as always, nodding to him in his typical manner. A sign of respect, mutual trust.

“Evenin’ Johnny, what can I do for ya’?”

“Evenin’ sir, brought summin’ for ya’. But I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t came here lookin’ to ask you summin’.”

“Right,” he can’t help but chuckle, looking down to the workbooks on his feet before he looks back to Johnny. “Well don’t be a stranger, come on in.”

The smell of metal has long faded and is replaced with the scent of soft vanilla candles and a smokey fireplace. Johnny can’t tell if Becca is home or not, but judging by her absence he can tell she isn’t in the house. Maybe in the fields, he couldn’t tell. Either way, his attention is diverted to her father whilst they sit at the kitchen table, the same table they’d first met at. Ironically they sit in their very same places, and he makes it a point to place the pack of beers on the table.

“Now I’m awfully appreciative of yer help round here boy, I ain’t got much but I owe you son. But uh, I just seent you yesterday, why the sudden formality eh?”

“It ain’t no problem, I ain’t mind helpin’ y’all out. Don’t owe me a thing.” Johnny’s eyes are on him, a charismatic smile over his features as he reaches for the cans over the table. “I’m a man of respect, sir.” He nods, freeing a bottle from its cardboard trap and waving it towards him. “Care for a beer?”

“I reckon one won’t hurt,” Raymond smiles, taking the bottle from him and popping it open against the table. “Don’t go tellin’ that there girl of yours though, she’d kill me if she found out.”

“Yeah,” Johnny chuckles. “‘Bout her, Rebecca,” he hums her name against his lips, taking his own beer bottle and opening it against the lip of the table. He takes a swig, popping the bottom down against the wood table and gulping it down. He clears his throat then, nodding towards Raymond. “I uh.”

“Y’all gotten along real close ain’t cha’?” Raymond asks between drinking from his own bottle. “She wasn’t real fond of ya’ all that long ago, not sure why, fill me in on that, will ya’?”

“Well she’s a firecracker, I’ll tell ya’ that much. But, I think she just came ‘round to me, ain’t much to it. No hard feelin’s, knew I was gonna have to prove myself to ‘er the second we met.”

“Yeah, well,” he takes another swig of his beer. “I’d say she’s more than came ‘round to ya’ son.”

“Yeah well, I’d been wantin’ to ask for yer permission, takin’ her out on another date.”

Raymond holds back his laughter, chortling behind his clasped hands.

“Lemme tell you summin’ boy, s’long as you get ‘er to say yes it’s all swell with me. I like you, you’s a fine young man. Ain’t no quarrels with me. Don’t make me regret that or it’ll be my shotgun to your head, ya heard?”

“Why thank you sir, ‘ppreciate that. I won’t let yer blessin’ go to waste.”

“Well now, at the end of the day it’s up to Becca. That girl, she ain’t all that easy to win over. But I’d say she’s takin’ a likin’ to you, better keep it that way.”

“Right,” Johnny nods. “Where she off at?”

“Store,” Raymond shrugs, “summin’ ‘bout needin’ flour, think she bakin’ summin’. How’s the family been? Ain’t seen the old man in some time, only met yer mother that once.”

“Oh they doin’ just fine,” Johnny somewhat chuckles. “Drayton, he always ramblin’ on ‘bout how I’m over here too much, thinks I’m botherin’ y’all’s. But he asks ‘bout ya an awful lot, think he likes havin’ some company ‘round here. Momma, she doin’ fine too. Lil’ skeptical of Becca but she’s always like that. She’ll come round. Reckon we aughtta get together again.”

“I’d say, maybe we can get those brothers of yer’s over? Remember summin’ bout there bein’ others. Reckon it’s time everybody gets acquainted with each other.”

“Right, yeah,” he’s hesitant, as though he’s hiding something yet his calm gaze makes it seem otherwise. “Rest of my kin don’t get out much, they real quiet folk. But I’m sure we can figure summin’ out.”

“Daddy, I’m home!” Both their gazes avert towards the foyer, the echoing sound of the door closing ringing in the hall where Rebecca steps into view, a brown paper bag of groceries nestled against her hip. She comes in, placing carefully the bag on the kitchen counter before moving to plant a kiss over Raymond’s cheek. “Here’s the change,” she reaches into her pocket to plant a few coins onto the table. Her mien is gracious yet admittedly neutral. Even when her eyes lock with Johnny’s and she raises her brow ever so slightly. “Johnny boy,” she nods her head. “Y’all workin’ out in the fields? I’d of stayed if I knew. Needed some things to help with supper, though.” She says so matter of factly, hands atop her hips as she stares over the two of them. Her eyes sort of gloss over Raymond, who sits there with his gaze fixated on that newfound gleam in her eye.

“Don’t you think you aughtta invite our guest to dinner?”

Becca only sends him a questioning countenance, looking to Johnny with a perturbed face. It’s only then that she takes notice to the pack of beer sat on the dining table, that and the bottle in each his and her father’s hands. Disappointment riddles her features and her brows furrow down in upset, she wastes no time in stepping toward them.

“Johnny,” she sighs. “Figured you’d invite ya’ self, like to have supper with daddy ‘n I?” Her tone is more disdainful than anything, patronizingly childlike. She still couldn’t let him on that easy, and she’d more than shown him her weakest sides.

“And daddy,” she sighs, “what’s all this then?” She picks up his bottle, holding it up. “You know you ain’t s’post to be drinkin’, it’ll kill ya’ if you make it a habit you know that?”

“Darlin’ ain’t no use in gettin’ between a man and his beer,” it’s that instant Johnny rises from his seat, circling round the table to place a firm palm on Rebecca’s shoulder and his other against Raymond’s chair, splitting them from one another. “One ain’t gon’ hurt ‘em, let the man rest for god’s sake.” It doesn’t take much to pry the bottle from her hands, with her wildly irate stare and faltering grip. “Now let yer’ old man and I catch up while you cook up summin’, we’ll be sat here if you need us.”

Silence can be blissful, except when it is filled with the rising tension of a blistering temper. Her disbelief at his utter disrespect and lack of regard is evident in the way which she stands there, glaring to him with an ugly look of vehemence and anger. Strange, the way she feels an overwhelming sense of loathing for him, yet, she stands there with her thumb in her mouth bewildered with forced acceptance and utter awe. A sort of odd concoction of love, hate and a murder most foul.

It’s foreign to her the way she can find both comfort and peace in one man but also aggravating hatred. The way the past had yet to be settled despite their mutual understanding. Perhaps her turbulent personality was the culprit, her unwillingness to compromise unless in the face of someone she respected and her stubborn head. Even her natural confrontational nature could have been behind it, yet there was no confrontation here, only acceptance. Yet she no longer wished to lob that head of his off the broad shoulders which they sat between, nor did she wish to make him suffer an insurmountable amount of pain at her hand. Rather, she’d like his approval, his understanding, his acceptance. And it only fueled her rage and the insatiable love for bloodlust that took refuge within.

So she steps away without another word, only shared glances to which she looks with a hellish expression. Going about her business in the kitchen where she’d began to prep the days meal. The distinct chatter of both Johnny and her father are in short earshot, and she makes it a point to punctuate her own seething anger with the chop of her cutting knife against the carrots. It was a stupid little thing she did, carrying about her activities in a manner that was obnoxiously loud, to make her upset known.

Just like her mother used to do.

Just like her mother.

How pitiful.

Then it was as though nothing had happened at all, as though she’d been nothing short of gracious all the while.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun

#melodrama #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny slaughter x reader #tcsm game #johnny sawyer #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw game #johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x oc #johnny sawyer x oc #johnny tcm game #johnny texas chainsaw massacre #black nancy #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm drayton #tcm johnny #tcm x reader #tcm nubbins #tcm game #johnny slaughter x y/n #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd x you #dbd bubba #dbd x reader #dbd imagines #slashers x you

[blueberrypancakesworld]

How does the Sawyer family react when you wear something from them?

warning : fluff, comfort, kiss, reader is female, no use of Y/n

characters : Leatherface, Nubbins, Drayton -> all from the 1974 movie

info : This was written in less than an hour because I have this little obsession that's come over me (I suspect it's from the upcoming tcm game) and I really wanted to write something for the three of them, but I didn't have most of the time which is why this is here.

Have fun reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leatherface

°On some hot days in texas, even the blood-soaked clothes seem to be too much. You've been sweating for hours in your short skirt and top and you just don't cool down. The cannibals, including your boyfriend, were somewhere else in the large farm compound, either preparing food or working on something.

°You were hanging out on the couch tinkering with something made of small bones. An early birthday present for Leatherface and chatting a bit with grandpa when you saw one of the apron leatherfaces in the corner of your eye.

°,,Wait a minute, grandpa, I'll tell you where I got the bones," she said, getting up from the couch and putting the bracelet aside before taking the apron in her hand. The leather was surprisingly cool and even though it was too big it was more than comfortable. I'm sure he won't mind, she thought and disappeared with the apron into her small room, where she retreated from time to time.

°Only to come out a few minutes later dressed in his apron. You had turned the ends into a belt to prevent her from slipping, but god did it feel more comfortable.  The leather which was surprisingly soft against her overheated skin was cooling. For the moment she didn't care that she was naked underneath. There were worse things.

°She was just about to sit down on the couch again and talk to grandfather when the front door opened and an astonished leatherface stood there. ,,Hello, my cake," she greeted her friend and turned in her apron with more than just a good view of her backside. She heard his grunt and the way he moved the chain ropes back and forth a little, as if he was a little overwhelmed.

°But she thought it was cute and instead went up to him to put her hand on his cheek. ,,I was warm...and well there was nothing better" she said truthfully and felt him take her hand in his, put the chainsaw down and nodded at her almost as if to say it's okay I like it. Before he yelled and pulled her into his room, he seemed to enjoy it more than just seeing her like that.

Nubbins/Hitchhiker Sawyer

°The knife went down on the wood and the animal on top of it went down again and again. Was it an animal at all? Or had Leatherface hooked up with someone again? She didn't know, but it didn't matter. She had held the knife long enough to know what she was doing, whether human or not.

°But although she was precise with the knife, she struck it once too hard and the artery burst under the weight, spattering the "new" top of her victim and causing her to curse. Damn, it's hard to get that out," she cursed under her breath and slammed the knife into the wood where it remained.

°As she left the kitchen cursing, she went to her room to look for something new. But she just couldn't find anything either too warm or too long or just too dirty and rancid with the smell of blood and death. Not that she minded, but she couldn't attract victims that way.

°Searching further in the large farmhouse, she found a T-shirt lying on a chair in the corner of her eye. ,,Bingo!" she shouted delightedly and went to the chair where she took the shirt and took off her dirty top. Putting on the new shirt, it fit Spgar quite well and she was glad.

°She was about to go back to the kitchen when she heard giggling and whistling. ,,H-Hello, pretty," she heard the voice of Nubbins, who had come into the house and was watching everything calmly, much to her surprise. ,,I think that's yours," she murmured and took a closer look at the shirt. It even smelled like him, even though the smell could easily be mistaken for death.

°Walking towards him, she saw his grin and laugh before he made a few almost uncontrollable movements. ,,Let's-let's make it d-dirty is nicer" he said excitedly and grabbed her hand before pulling her out of the house laughing. But she returned the favour, delighting in his brightness and fondly ruffling his hair, which he enjoyed before the two of them went in search of new dead things to photograph.

Drayton Sawyer

°The smell of cooking meat with leftover vegetables and gravy wafted through the house, followed by several yells, cursing noises and Nubbins and his brother running out of the house to escape Drayton's broom.

°Unimpressed, she still looked at her place on the couch and went through some old faded recipe books before going to the kitchen to join Drayton. She could still hear him grumbling as he began to cut the meat into smaller pieces and sort out the rough bones.

°She went to the pot and just dipped her finger into the food to taste it. But as soon as she tasted it, she felt something drip onto her shirt. ,,Oh, no, it's just been washed!" she flared out loud, ignoring the slightly confused look on the older man's face as she ran past him to clean up the mess.

°She seemed to have been looking for her clothes for an hour and she was sure that Nubbins had stolen them again. The stain had dried up and she was about to give up when she saw a white shirt lying on the table, sorted by morning. It'll be fine, she thought aloud and took off her top to put on the shirt.

°She was just about to button up the pleasant, airy fabric when she felt someone put a hand on her hip, almost gently, so as not to startle her. ,,Such an old man...what did I do to deserve you?" she heard Drayton's voice as she turned to him and saw the small smile. ,,Old is a matter of opinion," she replied and saw him smirk before he started buttoning her shirt.

°She knew he often had bad days and was sometimes more than overwhelmed but she helped him as best she could between all the other things she was doing. Before he was finished and she happily joined him, they went back to the kitchen together.

°Where they both had some quiet time to themselves before he chased his brother out again to finish the meal. But when she came up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, not only did he blush, but any frustration was gone from his face. Before he became the calm gentleman she could. Simply too cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@foggyreadingromancepsychic thought you might like it if not it's totally okay

#tcm 1974 #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #leatherface x reader #leatherface x you #no use of y/n #reader is female #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader #drayton sawyer #drayton sawyer x reader #fluff #comfort #kiss #on the cheek

[ragequeen94]

Hihi! Do you think you could do a blood kink with nubbins sawyer and or bubba? If not thats totally fine!

Nubbins/The Hitchhiker

he likes it when it's your blood, or even better, his. he likes to spread it around over your naked body, watching blood pool in the divots and crevices, his favorite in the dip of your collar bones, where the two meet in the middle. watching warm fresh blood drip slowly down your throat and form a little red lake at the base of your throat drives him wild.

he cuts his hands like it means nothing, and to him it really doesn't, any pain he feels in a means to an end. he runs his hands over you making designs, tracing the lines of your body. before he let's himself get taken up but you, he takes photos. he has hundreds of Polaroids stashed in albums and hollowed out bibles, of your delicious body dripping in red.

he could cum untouched if you let him play with you, painting you for long enough. but you need your fun too. when you've had enough you suck his bloody finger into your mouth, tasting the sweet, metallic salt, and suckle on him like a piglet. he is weak to your needs, and by the time he's done playing, the sweat from your bodies will have washed away most of the blood.

He loved it even more if your someone who has a period, the blood is so much sweeter. He almost craves it. Any way he can watch you blood is erotica to him.

Bubba

he doesn't like the idea of you bleeding at all, and he's not a fan of self harm either, he has enough scars, no need to add to them. but what he does love, if when you are covered in the blood of others. more often than not its animal, because thats what is easily avaliable but there's nothing wrong with a little 'long pig' now and again either. If he ever comes upon you gutting a animal you plan on BBQing later or preparing meat in the kitchen and it gets bloody he's instantly aroused.

you'd be in the kitchen cutting up steak, the red bleeding meat still fresh from slaughter only a few hours ago, and you were covered elbow down in blood, you'd feel him pressed up behing you, pressing into your back so you knew how infatuated he was. hed kiss your neck as he watched your fingers squeeze dry rub into dinner. nimble fingers are bright red, streams of blood running down your elbows. hed want to eat you up.

but watching you gut a kill is an entirely different thing. if watching you cut up bloody steak is like porn, watching you clean an animal is living it. you'd find yourself holding onto the meat hooks just to keep you balance as he fucks you standing. he can't help it, watching you tear organs out of the body cavity is like living art. so strong, but delicate and precise. you can't mess up and accidently cut the organs, it makes a mess and can soil the meat, so he is always impressed with your skill.

but he loved the red on you, the way it runs down your arms, and stains your shirt, the way you absent mindedly wiped your face with your dirty hand and now blood smeared over your mouth, the way you'd done the same to your hair... he be kissing you, licking the salty blood off your skin, kissing your red lips, hed pick you up and you'd be laid down on the work bench he uses as a butcher block, face down or face up he doesn't care. he just wants to fuck you, watch as your body takes him under the slow drip of blood from the hanging carcus'. it's not exactly hygienic... but neither of you care.

#horror #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader

[bosinclairsgff]

Also!! I’m on a writing streak so if you have any requests now would be the time to send them in!!

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #slasher x reader #slashers #saw franchise #jennifers body #rz myers x reader #otis driftwood #the grabber x you #love quinn #brahms heelsire x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #mark hoffman fluff #bosinclairsgff

[havocskies]

hi u can do vance hopper x shy male reader who loves reading horror books and drawing gore horror stuff

THIEF | VANCE HOPPER X MALE READER

ofc i can !! i love this sm actually omg, thank you for requesting !!! as a shy horror nerd and someone who loves drawing this will be so easy to write i think

also i know requests are getting done very slowly it's bc i'm trying to work on all of them n most of them are fics 😭 i have stuff goin on irl too </33 also this is not proofread unfortunately 🫶

TWs: none

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"What are you drawing?"

As a particularly familiar voice greets your ears you look up, your attention stolen away from your sketchbook. It was your boyfriend who was currently hanging out with you. At the moment he seemed to be watching you draw, looming over your shoulder. In any other circumstance this would likely seem intimidating but he was your boyfriend no matter how scary he accidentally was sometimes.

"A killer from this one new horror movie I saw - Texas Chainsaw Massacre I think? It's pretty cool. I'm drawing Nubbins, the weird hitchhiker dude." You explain, the tips of your mouth being pulled into a careful smile. You didn't often talk this much about your drawings but you knew Vance was genuinely curious, even if he had no idea what you were drawing half the time. He liked horror movies but he wasn't an avid fan like you were. Plus you liked books more than movies, and books weren't really Vance's thing.

"Oh, I heard about that I think. I thought you liked books though?" Vance questioned, watching the careful movements of your pencil on paper with interest. His question made you giggle a little which earned you a small glare in return.

"I do, it just seemed interesting. I can still watch movies, y'know. I did draw Carrie earlier today, though. The girl from that one book by Steven King? She was bullied a lot and got pigs blood dumped on her at prom, went absolutely crazy?" You tried your best to explain the book in hopes your boyfriend would understand but he simply stared blankly, his mouth pushed into a frown. You tried your best not to giggle but Vance looked so much less intimidating while he was confused you couldn't help but find it a little cute.

He didn't find it as amusing as you did. Instead he huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not a nerd like you, I don't read every book that I see." He shot back despite nothing being said in the first place.

"I think you'd actually like reading. If you weren't on that pinball machine all day, I mean. I swear you like it more than me." You joke. This seems to spark some amusement in Vance. He laughs, and you laugh in return. Even so, he's quick to defend himself as always.

"I do not! You might as well love your books more, you stare at them more than you stare at me." He playfully pushes your shoulder which may have been a little too hard but you know he means nothing by it. You decide to drop the subject and turn the page to the drawing of Carrie you had finished before Vance came over. It was the scene where Carrie was dying at the end and Sue found her. You liked that scene a lot, it was nice to know Carrie died knowing Sue didn't hate her.

Vance stares at the drawing, his brows furrowed. "What's going on in it?" Oh. You had forgotten he wasn't aware.

"Carrie, the one dying, is kind of reading Sue's mind before she dies. She finds out Sue didn't actually hate her and didn't know what was going to happen at prom. I just like the scene, I don't know." You shrug, dismissing everything else you'd like to say about the book. While you're practically obsessed with it you know Vance doesn't really care for books at all, so you decide not to bore him about it. To your surprise he inquires more about it, anyway.

"What's the rest of the book about?" He seems genuinely interested, his gaze fixed on the drawing as he stares at every part, every detail. You hesitate for a second before answering briefly.

"This girl, like 17 or 18 I think, is bullied at school for being really sheltered by her mom. She doesn't really know a lot and is just kind of an outcast, I guess." You watch Vance's expression and surprisingly he's still listening, waiting for you to continue. You do. "Anyway, Sue gets Tommy to take her to prom so she can have a good time and live her life like an actual person. Her mom's super religious though so she didn't like it but Carrie went anyway. Another group of people poured pigs blood on her while they were crowned queen and queen."

Vance seemed as though he were in thought for a moment before he quickly fixed his expression. "It sounds okay, I guess." He shrugged and tapped his fingers against his arms. He normally fiddled with his pocket knife but you had recently asked him not to do it around you, it often made you nervous. He was understanding, and you knew he would be. Vance was without a doubt scary but you were his boyfriend, he wasn't going to scare you. Not with any harm, anyway.

Instead Vance had a habit of simply sneaking up on you or showing up behind corners while you were distracted. He still took joy in being an absolute menace, unfortunately. You're taken away from your thoughts as your boyfriend takes your pencil from your hand and more carefully takes your sketchbook. You allow him, you knew he had no malicious intent.

Often times when he took your sketchbook he simply wanted to look through it or occasionally doodle. This time it seemed as though he were trying to copy your drawing of Carrie right beside your own. His lips were pressed together and his brows furrowed as he focused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly more when he messed up and had to erase his mistake. You weren't sure if he was frustrating himself until he threw the pencil down onto the bed and looked at you with a proud grin.

You take your attention away from Vance and look at his copy of your drawing. A small smile is placed upon your face as you study it. It really wasn't that good, but Vance was proud of it and it certainly was a bit better than it normally was. If your drawing wasn't right there you'd be able to guess it was Carrie. Had he been practicing or something?

"You have some competition, now." Your boyfriend boasted, his arms crossed as he looked down at your sketchbook and then back up to you. You snort, shaking your head a little in disbelief. "Clearly. Stop practicing, i'm supposed to be the artsy one in this relationship, that's my job. Not yours."

Vance let out a laugh at your response. "Maybe I will take your place. Be careful." You rolled your eyes in attempts to show your false lack of approval but the smile plastered onto your expression proved otherwise. You couldn't believe it, before you had dated Vance you would've assumed the most artsy thing he was interested in was carving things with his pocket knife. You were proven wrong, apparently.

Whether it was from an actual new interest in drawing or his competitive nature in general you weren't sure, but you weren't complaining. You were glad he at least had some sort of interest in the things your interested in, even if it was just to try and be better than you at it. An idea popped up into your head, an idea anyone else would get punched for even considering. You were his boyfriend though, so you were pretty much safe.

"I'll just beat your highscore at pinball or something. Doesn't seem that hard." You shrugged, taking a quick glance at Vance's expression. He looked shocked, his mouth slightly opened and his eyes wide. You almost laughed but you managed to bite your tongue. As much as you knew Vance wouldn't actually hurt you you couldn't count on him putting you in a light headlock, which was probably what he was considering right now.

"You wouldn't even get close." Vance's voice got lower, his tone nowhere far away from threatening. Still, the spark of amusement in his eyes is still there. He's only teasing.

"I'm thinking about it. Since we're picking up new hobbies and all." You flip through the pages of your sketchbook to try and seem as though this conversation wasn't interesting you in the slightest. You probably just looked a little dumb.

"You absolutely will not!" Vance quickly moves forward and holds you close in a position where you could barely move. You can't help but laugh, your fists flying backwards in an attempt to get out of your boyfriend's grasp. It comes nowhere near working but you can feel the vibrations of him trying his best to stop himself from laughing, too. It wasn't really working that well.

"Vance Hopper I will break that pinball machine instead!" You cackled, finally landing a hit on Vance. By the way he grunted and seemed to almost stagger a little you could tell you had accidentally hurt him more than you wanted to. Before you could even pause and apologize he was back to teasing as if you hadn't even done anything at all.

"I'll just take your sketchbook, then." Your boyfriend stated in a matter-of-fact tone. You barely even get your words out before he lets go and grabs your sketchbook before you get a chance to. Vance quickly gets off of your bed and you copy his movements, the two of you pausing as you wait for the other to move. You move first, grabbing for your sketchbook only for him to let out a bark of laughter and run out of your room. You want to say something but you decide to save your breath for the chase you knew he was likely going to win.

Vance ran from cops significantly more than you did. You never ran from cops, you didn't have to. This wasn't the first time he had unceremoniously stolen something from you and ran, unfortunately. He seemed to find it entertaining and while you did, too in a sense it didn't always end in you winning. Still, you decide to feed his already overgrown ego and chase him around your house in hopes he won't accidentally break anything in the process.

It doesn't take you long to catch up, once you get downstairs you find him waiting right in the living room. The second he sees you, though, he starts running again and you do, too. You dodge various pieces of furniture, almost knocking one of the chairs in your dining room over. Thankfully Vance is much less clumsy than you and as far as you have seen hasn't come close to breaking anything or knocking anything over.

"Give it!" You demand, your breath overtaking your voice as you struggle to get it back. Vance is struggling too, his chest rising and lowering as he stands with your sketchbook on the other side of the table. Rather than a proper response he gives an out of breath laugh. You know you won't get your stolen property back by simply catching him, that boy has outrun probably half of the police officers in Denver easily.

You try your best to formulate a plan in your head. You could trick him, but you weren't really sure how. Even though he had already failed two grades and was easily going on year three he wasn't an idiot. Whatever you quickly came up with he'd definitely figure out without a doubt. Bribery, maybe. The only thing he cares about his pinball, though, and you weren't that keen on wasting money when you knew he'd give it back eventually.

Even so, you wanted to win. You may be the polar opposite of your boyfriend personality wise but you were equally as competitive. You were going to get that sketchbook back on your own.

"I'll give you money for pinball if you give me my sketchbook." You try your best to hide your growing smirk. Vance raised one singular eyebrow, his breaths becoming more regulated as time goes on. You don't need a verbal response to know he's considering and likely wants you to go on.

"Enough for like - a few games maybe? I know you're short on change right now, you were complaining about it earlier at the Grab n' Go." You knew this because you were the one Vance was complaining to. You often watched him play pinball the same as he often watched you draw.

"Okay, deal." Vance shrugs, stepping forward. You know Vance, and you know he's not just gonna give it to you that easily. You're gonna have to be equally as mean if you want that sketchbook as bad as he does. As soon as he walks close enough you waste no time to tackle him to the ground, catching him off guard and causing both of you to tumble into the ground.

Before Vance has enough time to react you grab your sketchbook from his hands and try your best to get up. Instead he grabs your ankle and pulls you down, crawling forward in attempt to grab your own sketchbook from your hands after you had just taken it back from him. You loved him, but the audacity this boy has sometimes is truly unbelievable. Determined to not let Vance take it again you slide it across the floor, causing your boyfriend to pause and curse under his breath.

You could tell he was beginning to take this seriously. You were too, in a sense. You really wanted to win for once and Vance could tell. The two of you rush forward, your socks sliding on the floor of the dining room as you both try your best to get there first. Without thinking you push Vance's face away to try and give you enough time and stop him a little. It works, and you feel your sketchbook in your hands once again.

You decide to not make the mistake of lingering again and bolt upstairs deciding running outside with Vance chasing you would look a little odd without context. You also didn't feel like getting your socks dirty. Your boyfriend wastes no time chasing after you as you make your ways upstairs, the thumping of two pairs of feet on the stairs probably enough to cause an earthquake if you both tried hard enough.

You make it into your room before Vance does and, knowing exactly what he's gonna try, shove it into one of your drawers right after closing the door on his face. It opens right after you shut the drawer closed, leaving you to stand in your own room empty handed and a little nervous. Your boyfriend looks over your room in a frenzy to try and find your sketchbook and quickly gives up, accepting the sketchbook is gone but not yet accepting you actually won.

A proud grin adorns your face, your whole body shaking with leftover adrenaline from being chased around your own house and being knocked to the ground once or twice. Vance stares at you before huffing and sitting down onto your bed, the mattress shifting with the new weight of your boyfriend. You join him.

"So I don't get the change for pinball?" He asks, his voice full of disappointment that really doesn't match his personality at all. You sigh and roll your eyes ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles appearing as you fished through your pockets for change. As you hand it over to Vance his expression immediately lights up and he affectionately punches you in the shoulder, maybe a little harder than necessary. "Alright, thanks." He laughs, putting the coins into his own pockets. You really got robbed twice.

You snort in response and Vance seems to stare at your small bookshelf, his eyes apparently caught on a specific one. You follow his gaze but can't tell exactly which one he's looking at specifically, there are quite a few.

"Hey, isn't that the book you were talking about?" You narrow your eyes in thought before you finally come across the memory.

"Oh, yeah. Carrie. Why?"

"Can I uh - borrow it or something? I probably won't finish it, I'm not a literal nerd like you, but you seemed to like it so maybe it's not that bad." He shrugged nonchalantly, though his fixed attention on the book broke his 'cool guy' facade. You smirk, standing up and grabbing the book from the shelf.

"Sure, I don't mind. Just give it back at some point, please." You can't help but chuckle, holding the book out towards your boyfriend. He gives an indignant snort in response and takes it from your hands.

"No promises."

#vance hopper #vance hopper headcanons #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper x you #vance hopper fanfic #vance hopper fanfiction #the black phone #the black phone x you #the black phone x reader #vance the black phone #the black phone fanfic #the black phone movie #bruce yamada #finney blake #horror #robin arellano #billy showalter #slashers #texas chainsaw massacre #nubbins sawyer #carrie #steven king #books #male reader #male yn #x male reader #vance hopper x male reader #tbp #vance tbp #havocskies

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

What do you think the Sawyer twins would be like with a genderfluid partner?

Ok so we doing this

Chop Top/Nubbins w/ a genderfluid partner headcanons!

Nubbins Sawyer

-he doesn’t care tbh

-he thinks that you looks cool and whenever you switch from fem to masc to androgynous he’s like 😮

-I feel like he uses names more than pronouns like “oh look y/ns over there”rather than “oh look he’s/shes/theyre”

-just in general with anyone

-so I don’t think if you have changing pronouns it would be much of an issue

-tbh he thinks it’s cool you can change your gender in the snap of a finger and probably finds it hot too

-I just truly think he couldn’t care less about gender or norms himself, he’s in his own world man

-overall this wouldn’t affect your relationship too much aside from him being mind blown by his super cool n unique partner

Chop Top Sawyer

-I picture him as kinda gender fluid himself- sort of like Nubbins in the same way he couldn’t care less about gender and norms

-like he’s like “I guess I’m a boy?” And doesn’t really care all that much- I also hc that he uses he/they pronouns

-but would totally experiment a lot more whenever you come around and think that your gender and gender expression it super cool

-he makes sure everyone respects your pronouns and gender for that day, and I think you would need some sort of system like pronoun bracelets or sum

-he’s pretty supportive of you but couldn’t care less, like he sees you beyond your gender yk

-you did open up his mind to new possibilities though

-thank gods- that rarely occurs.

#slashers #slasher #slasher x reader #chop top sawyer hcs #choptop x you #choptop x reader #chop top x reader #texas chainsaw massacre chop top #choptop sawyer #nubs #nubbins slaughter x reader #nubbins sawyer x you #nubbins x you #nubbins x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #nubbins #nubbins slaughter #tcm nubbins #nubbins sawyer #TCM #texas chainsaw massacre headcanons #texas chainsaw x reader #Texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre

[urlocalnonbinarybastard]

Johnny found your Footprints! Uh oh…

#cosplay #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #tcm #closet cosplay #tcm closet cosplay #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw #texas chainsaw massacre game #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw fanart #texas chainsaw the beginning #tcm hcs #tcm video game #tcm leatherface #hitchhiker tcm #tcm the beginning #leland tcm #tcm nubbins #tcm bubba #tcm game #tcm fanart #johnny tcm #tcm 1974 #tcm johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer fanart #johnny slaughter x you #johnny sawyer cosplay

[horrorjunki3]

Can you do otis and nubbins with a autistic reader who easily gets overwhelmed?

Warnings:Canon typical violence, discussions of being overstimulated/overwhelmed, Otis being Otis, Fluff

AN: okie while I am Neurodivergent I'm not Autistic so if there is an misrepresentation - massage me and I'll edit it. I want this to be a safe place for everyone:)

Slashers with an Autistic S/O who gets overwhelmed frequently:

Includes: Otis Driftwood and Nubbins Sawyer

Otis Driftwood

When you first get overwhelmed - it's probably because of him I'm assuming your a meant to be victim and all that fear, noises and emotions would overwhelmed anyone -> During this time he mocks you and enjoys it but once your not a victim he softens up

For a while he doesn't get it or know how to help, he doesn't wanna be soft and will probably tell you to piss off -> after some scolding from Baby and Ma he'll find you once you've calmed down and actually ask you why you get overwhelmed

Depending on if it's a sensory thing, or something else he will ask what you need and does it

You need noise cancelling headphones? His stealing them, you need something to fidget with? He'll make you something!

His still not great with emotions and prefers to help you with actions and acts of service -> man will do anything you tell him to in these moments, your his darlin' his gonna help

The firefly house can get chaotic -> even more so when there's victims but the family tries to do what they can!

Nubbins sawyer

Despite what others may think - Nubbins is actually really good at helping his Autsic partner "Y-yer just like b-b-bubs!! I k-know how to h-help him!" -> (I spoke about this here but I personally think bubs is Neurodivergent)

Even tho he bases alot of what he knows on your reactions to Bubs he will also ask what you need!

He makes you sensory things and if compression and weight help he'll ask if you need him to lay on you or hug you! And if that's not enough you have Bubs! They love cuddles!

If you hit yourself when you get overwhelmed he coos at you and gently grabs your hands -> he made you something you can hit (there's soft sensory toys you can get for this -> I have one :) )

If the noise or environment is to much Nubbins will take you to sit with gramps! It's quite there all you can here is his snores:) - Nubbins stays with you sometimes but if there's a victim he'll wanna be down there being chaotic before he leaves tho he brings you anything you could need and leaves and turns to gramps and asks him to take care of you!

#slasher simp #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #nubbins sawyer #bubba sawyer #nubbins x reader #otis driftwood x you #otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Hey, could you please do some nubbins sawyer head canons, maybe about if you did his hair or makeup?

Of course! I love this!! 🖤🖤

Nubbins is the cutest I swear ☺️

(Also sorry I’ve been mia, life has been tough lately but tysm for all the love and support!🖤)

He loves the idea!….Of you playing with his hair that is. Nubbins craves physical touch..good or bad. When you two first met he was sorta distant at first knowing you were uncomfortable with him, he was like a child-watching you from across the room to see if you would mind him pestering you.

Nubbins loves it when you play with his hair! He loves how soft your hands are and how gentle your touch is. He’ll let you style his hair any way you like just as long as he gets to sit between your legs.

Doing his makeup might need some persuading..Nubbins fear he will be picked on if his family saw. But if you reassure him that no one will see but you and that you will clean it off, he’ll let you.

He loves the attention, especially since it’s from you so expect him to get excited and start moving around. Even if you tell him to sit still he won’t.

Putting on mascara or eyeliner will be a nightmare due to his wiggles. Knowing Nubbins he is bound to have some type of outburst. So if you accidentally poke him In the eye(due to him moving) there’s a possibility he might push you away and yell. He might even get up and leave but trust he’ll come back to apologize and let you finish.

Once you finish his makeup he’ll ask you if he did good 🖤

He will definitely wanna style your hair and do your makeup next!

#my wriring #request #request open #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slasher headcanons #tcm nubbins #nubbins x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer #headcanon #slasher requests #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tcsm #answered #thanks anon! #thank you #🖤

[ask-them-horror]

(i tried to brush his teeth...) inspired by choptopsavvyer

#digital art #ttcm #pixel art #the texas chainsaw masscre #tcm #new artist #newbie #sawyer twins #nubbins sawyer #the hitchhicker #nubs #nubbins x you ??? i dont even know-