BOOdalinski

I...don't know what this post is. I've been MIA for literal years, and honestly, I meant to return in a more dignified manner than this.

How to Lower the Murder Rate

● Barbwire. If Jason has time to set traps, he has time to put up a perimeter fence. Plus, the people around Crystal Lake already know about him. It’s not like they’re going to say anything. (Not even the HOA wants that smoke.)

Note: The only reason I could see him not doing this is if it would disrupt/harm the wildlife. (Think of the dingo fence in Australia.)

● Private Property Signs. At the very least, someone could put up signs near common entry points. Warning: trespassers will be shot. That's all they need. Is it technically a lie since Jason is more of a machete-to-the-face kind of guy? Yes. But speaking from experience, a sign like that would have most campers turning around real fast.

● Why Hasn’t Anyone Done This? No, really...why? From a police standpoint alone, this is the obvious solution. They leave Jason alone out of fear, yet they could also protect others by implementing these simple deterrents. 

Note: It’s a bit like a condemned building. If you can’t tear it down, you lock it up, ensuring that curious people can’t gain entry. Why not do the same thing with Camp Crystal Lake? It’s a small town; no one’s going to object.

Jason Voorhees and Sexual Congress

● Sex isn’t inherently bad. It’s more about the location and implications that warrant death via machete. After all, how would you feel if strangers started doing the horizontal tango in your bed? Pretty upset, I’d imagine. But why? It’s just a bed, after all...

It’s disrespectful. By doing the sex, they’d be disregarding the fact that it’s not their bed--it’s yours. As such, you should be able to decide who can sex it up. 

Violation. Your house is your safe place. By disregarding this fact, they violate your sanctuary. There is also the blatant lack of consideration for your comfort.

● It’s his land. Strangers shagging on your floor? Nope! Get out! But you and Jason doing it there? Well, it is your home. If you want to climb that man like a tree, who are we to judge?

Jason and Candles

● Ok, stick with me on this. He has a shrine to his mother. That shrine has candles. Where is he getting them? The people need to know! *Hangs off of Jason's shirtfront dramatically, much to his bewilderment*

There are two main options: animal fat or beeswax. 

● Option 1: Jason the Beekeeper. I prefer this explanation because it’s wholesome as all get out. Just imagine Jason in a little beekeeping outfit, puttering around, attending to his buzzing little buddies. He would not be beating the Disney Princess allegations.

● Option 2: Jason the Hunter. Alright, alright...this may be the more realistic one. (I don’t have to be happy about it, though!) As we know, Jason is proficient with a bow. He’s also insanely large and muscular--so much so that he’s definitely living a protein-rich lifestyle. And with the magic of fat rendering, any fat from his kills would be transformed into tallow.

● Jason the Flower Gardener??? You know what? No, he will not be beating the Disney Princess allegations. Not today! Because unless he wants those tallow candles to smell all gamey, he'd scent them. With what? Perfumes. And how would he get perfume? From FLOWERS.

He'd either cultivate an immaculate flower garden or frolic about Camp Crystal Lake in search of wildflowers. Either way, it's the slasher-ghibli mashup no one asked for, but we all needed.

Jason and Lost Pets

● HE'S A DISNEY PRINCESS! Don't even try to tell me he doesn't love animals. Even Kane Hodder said that Jason isn't the type to ever hurt one. And when you live in the middle of nowhere, you're going to encounter dumped pets.

Thus, I present to you...

● Friday the 13th: This Time It's Purrsonal. Not wanting any part of his kills (from deer hunts) to go to waste, Jason would leave scraps out for any hungry animals. Lonely as he is--and overwhelmed by human social relationships--would it be all that surprising when he bonds with them?

This is sending me down an imagination rabbit hole of Jason having to take all his new pets to the vet for spay/neuter, deworming, vaccines, etc., and it's just...the Jason Voorhees is sitting in a waiting room. (And no one is going to do anything because everyone from the area knows better.)

● Excellent Food. This man isn't just a cook, he's a chef. And as his s/o, there's no way he's going to leave you to eat mediocre food. Are you about to eat some old toast for breakfast? "What are you doing? Put that down!" *Smacks it away* Gale's making omelets and they are going to be delicious, and well worth the wait.

He would absolutely sass you for snacking before meals, afraid you'll spoil your appetite.

● Personal Chef. Are you sick? *Enters bedroom carrying a tray containing a steaming bowl of soup, a goblet of tea and a small vase with flowers.* Missing home? He'd try to find local recipes to make you feel a bit less homesick.

● Magic-Assisted Dates. Now you know this man's gonna teach you all the colors of the weave. How else is he expected to flirt? With something other than his special interest? *Scoffs in autistic* Besides, just think of all the butt-pinches you could sneak in with a well-placed mage hand!

He'd be so proud of you the first time you actually manage an unassisted mage-hand-grope, insisting you celebrate.

● KINKY sex. Worried you'll get bored with just one partner for the rest of your life? Ha! Gale is nothing if not inventive. Prepare yourself...for floaty-floaty air sex!

He canonically gets the floaty-sex idea from Lae'zel thanks to their party banter about Githyanki Psionics.

● Missing the tadpole connection. Gale talks in his sleep, (again, listen to his party banter for gems) so you needn't worry about a lack of communication. Still, you'd both miss the comfort of feeling each other's minds. Perhaps your clever wizard could find a spell to replicate the affect?

● Lots of snuggles. Who's this man trying to fool--Gale is extremely touch starved. And while using the weave is often his preferred method of wooing, he wouldn't say no to the more traditional forms of affection. *Melts into a puddle of bliss as you stroke his hair*

You'd spend many a night cuddled before the fire, Tara purring happily nearby.

● Speaking of Tara... She'd adore you. Perhaps a bit distant at first, she'd quickly learn to love you. The only point of true disagreement would be Gale's beard.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

In the past, he would leave pretty soon after. While he's a skilled flirt (and takes considerable pride in making his partners come), he just never felt enough of a connection with someone to want to linger.

But with you? Thom would cherish you. Cleaning you off, he'd pull you close, placing a kiss to the crown of your hair as you rest your head on his shoulder. You'd spend several nights just talking about anything and everything.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part and also their partner’s)

Your butt. Thom has a certain affinity for watching you in those tight leather trews of yours--loving (and sometimes hating) the way they gift him with a clear outline of your derrière.

When you're in bed, he loves to give your ass a squeeze, watching the way it jiggles as he rails into you from behind. (All to the sounds of your moans as you beg him to go harder.) And afterward? He'll hold you in his arms, one hand trailing down to cup your bum as he pulls you closer.

Jason Voorhees

He’d be distracted. More than usual. Eyes following your every move, he'd be thinking about last night. The way your skin felt against his...how you’d clung to him as though you never wanted to let go... Honestly, who could expect him to get any work done when you were so casually lounging before him? He’d watch the way you move, seeing you in a different light, imaging...things.

He’ll probably make you giggle. Honestly, Jason, stop staring! He’d look away...only to glance back at you a few seconds later. He just can’t help it. After all, he’s still trying to convince himself this isn’t a dream. 

He’d want to touch you. Would you let him? If he came up to you right now, could he hold you in his arms? 

Thomas Hewitt

He’s the sweetest man ever. Not that you’re all that surprised. This is Thomas we’re talking about. Having cleaned you up the night before, he’d be in no rush to release his hold. Expect cuddles and sweet kisses against the back of your neck as he spoons you.

He’d have to get up eventually. Rolling out of bed with a reluctant groan, he’d start to dress for the day, blushing at the blatant hunger in your eyes. Did you like looking at his body, (Y/N)? By your flustered (and rather lustful) expression, he’d know the answer. Letting you enjoy the show, he’d lean down to give you a kiss before heading downstairs.

Note: Everyone would know what happened last night. (The walls are thin.) Luda Mae would, therefore, understand if you wanted to sleep in a bit.

Michael Myers

He’d provide. Now, I know we’re all worried Michael would just get up and leave. Thankfully, this isn’t the case. Rising before you, Michael would sneak downstairs to make you breakfast.

He’d follow your lead. Did you want to stay in a watch a movie on the couch? Lead the way, (Y/N). His suddenly amenable behavior would leave you reeling. Apparently sex does calm some people.

Physical affection. Snuggling against him, you’d be shocked when he absently wraps an arm around you, toying with your hair. Peaking up, you’d see his gaze trained on the television screen.

Brahms Heelshire

He’d let you sleep. Let me guess: you’re expecting Brahms to wake you up at dawn, demanding more sex. Well you’re wrong. That’s right--wrong. 

He’d be surprisingly tender. Waking to the feel of you snuggled against him, Brahms would remember where he was and what had happened. You...you hadn’t left. Heart aching, he’d stroke your back. 

@velociraptor57: what would the slashers reactions be to sleeping in the same bed with their future S/O for the first time????

Jason Voorhees

Tension. The last time he'd shared a bed with someone, he'd been half the size and in a very different context. Now? He would be tense, and not know what to do, would let you take the lead.

He'd freeze. What was this feeling? Was it...acceptance? Looking down at your bundled form, his thoughts would race. How could this person want to be near him? It was impossible. And yet, you weren't shying away--quite the opposite.

He'd like it. So much that there'd be no point in denying it. He would, however, berate himself for it. Gaze drifting over to you, he'd chide himself for acting like a lovesick puppy. It was a one-time thing. He refused to develop any hope for more with you, knowing it wouldn't end well.

Miscommunication. Well, Jason had clearly hated that. After all, you'd seen how tense he was--especially when you'd allowed yourself to scoot closer, not comfortable laying at the very edge of the tiny bed. (Honestly, it was either snuggle or fall onto the ground.) Eventually, you'd break down and admit that you feel safer with him nearby. And ever the protector, that would be how you start sharing a bed.

Michael Myers

No. No. He does not want to cuddle with you--stay away! Are you getting too close to him? He'd wistfully look at the floor. It wouldn't be that uncomfortable.

Betrayed by his own body. An early riser, Michael would wake to a horrifying reality. His arms wrapped around you, his nose buried in your hair...and worst of all...he'd been nuzzling you. Nuzzling!

Freaks out. On the inside. On the outside, there would be no difference. Mind racing, he'd extricate himself from the bed as quickly and quietly as possible. You'd never know, he thought. It was the only thing keeping him from all-out sprinting from the room, never to return.

Starts to question himself. In the coming days, his thoughts would return to that morning. A small part of him felt...longing? No...he was Michael Myers. He didn't have longings. He didn't have desires. Then why do you keep thinking about y/n? He wouldn't know. And it would bother him.

Thomas Hewitt

Mixed emotions. While he'd fear scaring you--certain that if he made the wrong move, you'd try to flee--you'd fear your own attraction to the man. A part of you wanted to stay close to him at all times. He'd protected you...made you feel safe. And yet, it was wrong to feel this way. Right?

Gravitational pull. A small bed + Thomas's large frame = inevitable cuddling. Turning onto your side, you'd end up pressing into him. And when you're both asleep? Prepare to wake up spooning (probably with his morning erection poking into you).

It'd turn into a regular thing. Over time, you'd start to cuddle more and more until you reach a point where you automatically crawl toward his side of the bed to snuggle into his large frame.

Grinding. That would be how your consensual sexual relationship starts. You'd wake to the feeling him grinding against you in his sleep. Shifting, you'd press yourself closer, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. When Thomas wakes, he'd be started and embarrassed, yet you would quickly comfort him. Please, I want you. Shocked, Thomas would let you do as you like, panting as he holds you close. (Imagine rolling over, urging him onto his back before you climb atop him--desperate for more. *cue the slow and sensual love making*)

Brahms Heelshire

Overwhelming emotions. Brahms would be shaking with desire. He'd yearn to pull you into his arms and never let go.

He'd stare at you. Like...to an unsettling degree. *Scoots farther away from him.* Seeing your discomfort, he'd lay on his back to gaze at the ceiling. Maybe that would help? Still, he'd sneak glances.

Quick Note: This is based on the remake version of Michael.

● First thing’s first: you need him to not kill you. Before I even start this post, let’s be perfectly clear. Michael is not a sentimental man. Other than having had a best friend before Smith’s Grove, it’d be very difficult to stay alive around him. To put it simply, you need him to have a reason to keep you alive. (That will come later in the post.)

● You’re a novice clinical psychologist, having just earned your PsyD. Disagreeing with the way Michael is handled (namely him being locked in a room 24/7). Of course, Loomis wouldn't like the criticism (though it would have been given in a polite manner). And since Loomis is...well, Loomis, it wouldn’t end all that well. 

Standing before the mirror, you turned this way and that, biting your lip as you fiddled with your hair. “You look fine,” you told yourself. Besides, it wasn’t as though he knew anything about human lingerie. In fact, everything about you was alien to him. You wondered if even the sounds you made were considered exotic to him. 

They probably are, your inner-self reasoned. You practiced a sultry glance in the mirror. Again, you looked to the perfume Yat’su had suggested. 

“Here, a gift,” she said all but shoving the metallic cylinder into your small hands. You accepted with wide eyes, fiddling with the strange object. The neuro-translator was a wonderful device, but it could have its limits--and interpreting only spoken word, you were often left floundering. 

“Err...Thank you, Yat’su.” A pause. “What is it?”

The female lifted her chin, giving a huff. “It will mask your musk.”

You stilled, face flaming. “Oh, my God! Is it that bad?” You weren’t even aroused!

Ignoring your panic, she gave a casual hair flip, inspecting her claws. “Pry’a mentioned you were looking for some. Unfortunately, she went into detail about your intention to seduce my sire...”

Oh God, could your face get any redder? 

“Why you’d feel the desire to do such a thing is beyond me,” she continued. “After all, it’s the male’s duty to lure females, not the other way around.”

“It’s an ooman thing...” You stole a quick glance at the large wall of glass. Maybe if you concentrated hard enough, you’d be able to teleport yourself into the vacuum of space. It seemed a better way to go than your current death-by-embarrassment. 

She gave you a droll look. “Yes, well...Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”

“I, uh...th-thank you.”

She gave a short nod, then snapped her gaze toward a group of males who’d been eyeing her. Splaying her mandibles, she sent a warning hiss. “Males are relentless when they scent a female close to heat.”

Hope it works, you thought. 

You checked the time. He’d be back soon. Plopping atop the massive bed, you shifted--trying to find the perfect pose. Inviting, but not too obvious. Found it. 

After a pause, you huffed and flipped over. It wasn’t right. How about this? No. Another shift. Still not right. You were close to giving up when you heard the unmistakable sounds of Se’nok’s arrival and froze.

I feel like a fool. There you were, sprawled out atop the bed. At the sound of your name, you tensed. Fuck it. Scuttling from the pelts, you checked your reflection before going to greet him.

. . .

“Mmm,” you hummed, approaching him with a hip-swaying gate. His eyes followed your every move. “Is that so?” You didn’t stop until you were inches apart and rested a palm on his chest. His mandibles clicked.

“You are behaving strangely.”

You rubbed his skin. “Oh you noticed, did you?”

He chuffed. “Even half-dead, I would find it difficult not to notice.” 

“I thought you liked boldness.”

“I do.” He caressed your cheek with his knuckles. “Still, I am suspicious. What are you up to, mate?” 

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know...” 

A half-hearted growl answered you, making your smile grow. “You’ll have to do better than that.” 

His mandibles splayed slightly. “You would have me interrogate you?” He eyed you.

You visibly squirmed. His eyes darkened and a deep purr rumbled forth--an unmistakable sign that he’d finally scented your growing arousal. He narrowed his eyes, placing two-and-two together. Suddenly, he scooped you up and strode to the bedroom. “If that is what my mate desires…” 

You grinned, nuzzling against him. “You are such a good mate, Se’nok.” 

“I know.”

You gave his chest a playful slap. “Arrogant, cocky male.” 

He shrugged. “One must be self-assured to survive in this world.”

“True,” you allowed.

“Not to mention surviving with a mate such as mine...”

“Oh, I see how it is!” He glanced down, tusks pulled into a grin. Tightening his hold, he purred, sweetly nuzzling your neck with his mandibles as you pretended to pout. “No, no, don’t try purring at me. It’s not going to work.”

So, yeah... Not very good at writing smut, but I got a bit into this one. For context, you and Thomas have had sex (Hoyt essentially forced you guys to have sex) twice now. 

Thomas’s normally steady hands shook. Frustrated, he shoved the tools aside and placed his palms on the table, closing his eyes. He leaned his head forward. Y/N. His lips parted. Y/N…

● Makeup. What are you putting on your face, little blade? *Snatches offered container and fiddles with it whilst clicking mandibles.* ...This product must be expired, (Y/N), as it clearly does not conceal you. If anything, this camouflage seems to highlight your features.

It is to conceal natural skin markings? Are all oomans this foolish? (Remember, variations in color/tone are what results in a camouflaged effect. An even complexion is easier to detect.)

● Nail Polish. While Yatsu wouldn’t be interested in trying your hair dyes, she must admit the nail varnish is somewhat alluring. Perched beside you, she’d curiously watch you paint her deadly claws the perfect shade of halo black.

Hers pupils would dilate at the thought of venom-infused nail polish. *Flares claws* Just think of the possibilities, little blade. A whole new method of combat! 

● Recorders. You know: the cheap plastic instruments used to torment parents worldwide. Hearing the shrill notes, your mate would visibly flinch. *Covers ears* Oomans use it to debilitate creatures with sensitive hearing, yes? What do you mean it’s supposed to “make music”?

Note: Yes, yautja have ears (well...ear holes). As you can see in the image above, they are located beneath the dreadlocks.

Credit: BeastSoulArt on Twitter

● Moisturizers and Skin Routines. *Feels your baby-soft skin* In what possible way does this benefit you? You are literally making your skin more vulnerable to injury.

Being Jason Voorhees’ S/O (Part 1)

● He tries to anticipate your needs. Do you like to use a walking stick during hikes? Instead of frequently needing to find new sticks, he’d fashion you an intricately carved cane--complete with a waterproofed finish. How about winter time? On especially windy nights, he’d be sure to gather extra blankets. *Pulls your bundled form close*

● He lets you touch his mask. Want to give your big man a kiss? Siddle on up and slide back that mask to lay a sweet smooch on those crooked lips. Don’t be surprised if he pulls you closer, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you into his arms. He just loves feeling you pressed against him.

● He lets you touch his dangly bits. There’s only one person allowed near his man-parts, Y/N--and that’s you. Unfortunately, this is a lesson some drunken campers have had to learn the hard way (no pun intended, he’d been horrified).

Note: Seriously, Jason had felt like he’d cheated. You’d have to explain that his lack of consent matters.

● He’d give little displays of affection throughout the day. Waking up to little ol’ you nestled against him? Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Jason would lean forward to give your forehead a kiss, pulling you closer as he runs his hands over your soft skin. He cherishes you, Y/N--never forget that.

● He’d grant you special privileges. As Jason’s s/o, you are the only person on earth who’s allowed to sass him. Imagine standing before the colossal man with shameless cheek, utterly unafraid. 

Note: Trying to coax him into giving you fighting lessons? *Shadow boxes around him whilst showing off your mad skills* How can he refuse all THIS? *Lands a jab to his chest only for him to slowly look down...* Really, Y/N? Really?

● He’d teach you wilderness survival skills. Some lessons would be more enjoyable than others. Knot week would (obviously) lead to some knotty situations, while foraging would give Jason a near heart-attack. As for tracking? Can you identify deer skat? How about cougar skat? Dog skat? Well prepare yourself, Y/N. *Jason wheels out a table with categorized dropping samples* And yes, there will be a quiz...

Note: Playing hide-and-seek would be the most enjoyable. Imagine having the Jason Voorhees hunting you. The longer he takes to find you, the greater your reward. (While he’s undeniably tough, Jason also believes in reward-based learning. *Gives you a cookie*)

● Getting carried a lot. Let’s be honest, you’d become downright lazy with the Jason Express around. Tired after a long day? *Cue smallest violin* “Oooh, woe is me! How will I ever manage to climb the veritable mountain that lies before me?” *Jason gives a huff before lifting you into his arms, turning to mount the stairs*

BONUS:

Imagine Jason’s s/o being clumsy/not the best at doing Jason-y things

Your gazes met, his steady blue eyes boring into yours. “What?” you asked with a giggle.

Nothing. He just stared at you. His silence spoke volumes.

“Oh come on,” you said. “You know I suck at that kind of stuff.”

A huff. Translation: no shit.

For all the people that love Michael. I know I don’t write solo works for him very often... Also, this is largely based on the Rob Zombie version of Michael

● He Wouldn’t Kill You. I know...so romantic. *Swoons* But what did you expect? It’s Michael Myers. And as such, this is a legitimately big deal. He would, in fact, go the extra mile and protect you. Michael (when treated with kindness and respect) is capable of relative tenderness. 

Note: Your best chance of being in a relationship with Michael would be if you’d known him before his time at Smith’s Grove. As an adult, he’s shown a clear disinterest in making new bonds.

● Rural Living. And I do mean rural. How does being the neighbor of Jason Voorhees sound? Don’t laugh, (Y/N), it’s a sensible idea. As a slasher, living near Camp Crystal Lake would have its perks. A hiker’s mysterious disappearance? *Cue the shrugs of surrounding townsfolk* It’s the perfect place to lay low.

Note: Plus, you’d get to see the lumberjack version of Michael, complete with watching him chop wood. *Sips morning coffee whilst thinking naughty thoughts*

● Fierce Protectiveness. If you’re hurt, prepare to see his dark[er] side as Michael goes from relaxed to deathly serious in an instant. Who’d dared to harm you? Tell him their name and he’ll make them die slowly. 

● Seeing the Softer Side of Him. Yes, your hopes have come true, (Y/N). Michael is capable of love. What would that love look like? Physical affection (given and received), gifts, and so much more.  

Note: Imagine curling up against Michael while watching a survival show. Snuggled between the couch and his massive frame, you’d bask in the warmth of his body, feeling his chest rise and fall. Thump-thump, thump-thump. His heartbeat would lull you into a relaxed trance as he absently strokes your hair.

● Seeing His Face. While this wouldn’t happen overnight, he’d eventually feel comfortable enough to go unmasked around you. It’d mainly be when he’s asleep or showering. Still, being able to touch his chiseled jaw? *Hands tremble as he stares at you with piercing eyes*

● F*cking. Now, we can’t talk about a relationship with Michael sans smut. It’s simply not done. So what would Michael in the sack entail? Domination. Pure, primal and steamy. BDSM would be his instinctual preference. Watching you squirm, hearing you beg...? Fuck, it’d get him so hard.

● Licking Your Wounds. You’re his mate--part of his two-person pack. After untying the cords around your wrists, he’d kiss the marks left behind. Are you thirsty? *Calmly heads downstairs to retrieve a water bottle* While his aftercare wouldn’t be as zealous as Jason’s, you certainly wouldn’t go unattended.

Anonymous: *chanting* More Mad-eye! More Mad-eye! Pretty please? I love what you've written so far.

● He’d blame himself. Alastor fears one thing above all else: losing you. It’s what keeps him up at night--what startles him awake with a cold sweat running down his face. He knows his constant paranoia must be tiring, yet you love him anyway. But now? What was the point if he couldn’t protect you?

● He’d find you. No matter where they try to hide you. Licensed to use unforgivables, he’d hold nothing back--interrogating Death Eaters until he finds the information he needs. And when he does? Well...

● He’d. be. BRUTAL. I’m talking ancient warlord levels of slaughter--John Wick levels of cold, calculated carnage. His enemies wouldn’t stand a chance. Hearing the chaos and screams would bring tears to your eyes. He’d come. Your Alastor--your beautiful, ferocious Alastor--was here.

Blasting open the door to your cell, Alastor would storm into the room, gaze on a swivel until he sees you. Without a word, he’d pull you into his arms, lips buried against the crown of your hair as he breathes you in. You weren’t safe yet, but you would be.

Afterward...

● He’d be extra paranoid. Time for a guard, (Y/N), because he is not losing you again. The addition of a house elf would be the first line of defense. He’d also fashion you a portkey-like talisman. “If you’re ever in danger, just grasp the locket and think my full name. It’ll bring you straight to me.”

Note: It would work by housing a lock of hair--honing onto the person’s genetic signature. He’d also enchant it so that no one but you (and him) can touch it.

● You’d feel ashamed of yourself. Much to his disbelief. Could he blame you though? He’d trained you, himself--had warned you to always be on guard when out. And had you listened? No. Now he’d be the one to suffer the consequences. 

Quick Note: I just wanted to thank all my lovely followers who reblogged the GoFundMe post. (You may not know, but I always read your tags and thank you for the kind words--I love you all, too! *ugly cries into Ollie’s fur*) I also wanted to give a big ‘thank you’ to the three people who donated. I know I thanked you already, but I wanted to do so again.

Jason Voorhees

He’d struggle to calm down. As they always do when Jason sharpens his machete, memories of his mother’s death would flood his mind. Her sobs, her screams, her...head. He still remembered the way her blood shone like black ink each time lightning illuminated her body. Lasing out, he’d slam chairs, fling heavy objects...anything to distract him.

You’d bring him back to the present. At the sound of his name, he’d whirl around. Would it frighten you? Absolutely. Imagine having all that hulking rage staring you down. Still, he hadn’t hurt you before--though he’d had plenty of chances. Voice shaky, you’d instruct him to sit down. 

He’d be extremely tense. Jason Voorhees and physical contact are somewhat of a mix-matched pair. That being said, he hasn’t felt a comforting touch since his drowning. Meaning? He’s not going anywhere. Enjoy those muscles, (Y/N), because he’s in a full-on trance. He’ll sit there for literal hours if you want.

Thomas Hewitt

He’d feel worthless. Hoyt is an abusive bastard--physically and emotionally. No one is safe from him. Not even Thomas. Every time you heard his words to Thomas, you’d wince. Tonight would be no different. After several minutes of silence, Thomas would appear. Pretending to busy yourself with this-or-that, you’d covertly watch him slump into the old kitchen chair, heart going out to him.

He’d be on guard. Eying you warily, his muscles would tense as you walk behind him. What were you doing? Surely you wouldn’t attack him--you were smarter than that. 

He’d uncoil. After a bit of shock. Lord, but your hands felt so good... Relaxing into the chair with an audible creek, he’d release a pent-up breath. Yes, he needed this. He needed soft, comforting touch. Turning to putty in your hands, he’d let his head fall back, his hair brushing the backs of your hands. 

Note: If you play with his hair, his eyes will close in bliss.

Michael Myers

He’d be sore. What could possibly make Michael Myers--the Boogeyman, himself--sore? Falling through a floor at the old Myers house would do it. *Lays on his back, wheezing* Imagine your surprise when he comes home, covered in dust. 

He’s not letting you touch him. He’s got an image to uphold, after all. Watching the stiff manner in which he moves about the room, you’d pensively chew your lip. Should you help him? What if he stabs you? To be fair, that would be a legitimate possibility--especially when he’s agitated.

You’d bring him a warm washcloth. “Here,” you’d say, warily approaching him. “Drape this over your shoulders. It’ll help relax your muscles. You should probably take a warm bath, too.” That’s the extent of what he’d allow. Anymore and you’re at risk for rejection. *Slinks off to his room to do as you’d suggested*

Brahms Heelshire

He’d be crying. Brahms...crying? Isn’t he supposed to be a man-child? What does he have to cry about (other than not getting his way)? Brace yourself, (Y/N). He’s more complex than originally assumed. 

He wouldn’t notice you at first. Head hung in shame, he’d be sitting before the portrait of his parents. They’d killed themselves because of him. Was he that much of a monster? Of course you are, his mind would harshly reply. 

He’d enjoy himself. A lot. The second your hands start to massage his aching muscles, Brahms would groan, head lolling back as his body goes weak. You were an angel--you had to be. Placing a hand over yours, he’d give it a grateful squeeze. You were still there. And in that moment, he’d promise himself to treat you right.

BONUS:

How this would change your relationship...

Jason Voorhees: Opening up to you, Jason would start to encourage exploration of the camp. Do you want to investigate the cabins? He’d even allow you to visit his old room. He’d also try to be calmer--allowing you to help him if you want. 

Thomas Hewitt: You’re his person now, (Y/N). Are you upset? Do you need anything from him? How about trying to lift something heavy? *Immediately strides over to help you.* Simply put, he’d be far less shy--putting your needs above his desire to hide away.

Michael Myers: Softens toward you. Are you stiff? Without a word, he’d fetch you a warm washcloth before heading upstairs to run you a hot bath. (Pst...Try not to be too obvious with your shock, (Y/N). *Closes openly gaping mouth*)

I want anyone who feels like they’ll never find someone to know that you deserve happiness. Love yourself--because you’re worth loving.

Jason Voorhees

You’re you. It’s really as simple as that, (Y/N). Has he seen people with better bodies? Of course. Outward appearance means nothing to him, though. Besides, who is he to judge?

He’d be attracted to you. Jason is very sexually repressed. For him to feel any physical attraction, he’ll need to get to know you first. And once he does? Bring on the sexy daydreams!

He’d be there for you. Two words: thick thighs. They ruin everything--from sneaking around (*chafing sounds give you away*) to maintaining your favorite pair of jeans (*sobs at the sight of thigh holes*). That’s not how Jason sees them, though. Firstly, jeans can be replaced. As for sneaking? Sure, the sound of your thighs rubbing together is what gave you away...totally. He loves feeling your soft thighs cradling his frame as you make love.

Thomas Hewitt

Actual post on this: Thomas Hewitt with a Plus-Sized S/O

Michael Myers

He doesn’t care. So, you’re overweight. What does that have to do with who you are? As an objectively handsome man, Michael could have anyone he wanted. But that’s just it...he’s seen that physical beauty is only skin deep. He wants you--no matter the packaging.

He’d be loyal to you. I’m not talking about cheating (which he would never do). I mean this man would literally kill for you. Did someone belittle you? Dead. A slight against you is a slight against him; it’s as simple as that.

Brahm Heelshire

Actual post on this: Brahms Heelshire with a Plus-Sized S/O

Vincent Sinclair

He’d want to sculpt you. Don’t be surprised when you find little fertility-goddess-esque figurines of yourself around the House of Wax. Watching you from the shadows, he’d nervously await your reaction. How had he made you seem so...appealing? If you tear up, he’d silently come forward to wrap his arms around you. “You made me beautiful.” That’s because you are, (Y/N).

He’d show you his face. Seeing the way you view your own body...? It’d be hauntingly familiar. *Looks at himself in the mirror* Unlike him, you couldn’t hide behind a mask. At the realization, he’d start to make self-portraits. He’s not ready to take off his mask, (Y/N), but he will show you what to expect when he is.

Bo Sinclair

Let’s be honest, Bo’s an asshole. ...He just is. If you’re expecting romance and sensitivity from the start, this man will absolutely disappoint. He’s not going to give you the time of day. Not at first, at least. (Don’t worry, he’ll feel guilty about it later.)

He’d taunt you. At first, he’d simply relish your discomfort. Yet once he starts to genuinely want you? Prepare for an influx of pain. Refusing to acknowledge the real reason he wants to grope you, he’d hide behind cruel remarks, pointing out your ‘blubber’ and such. (Seriously, he’s an asshole.)

He’d make you snap. This is when he’d realize how much he’s hurt you. And seeing this other side of you? Instant intrigue. More importantly, though, instant guilt. Maybe...maybe he had gone too far. *Heart drops at the sight of your enraged tears*

Anonymous: Thomas after one of his victims escapes and ends up harming his s/o pretty seriously?? Like, they’re fine, but it was a close call. Would he freak out, or shut down out of guilt...? Also, I love you writing, btw.

● Bones would break. He wouldn’t bother with a chainsaw. Dropping it in his rush to reach you, Thomas would literally fling your attacker across the room, slamming them into the wall. They’d dared to touch you? You’d never seen Thomas so violent. Just the undiluted fury would cause your attacker to soil themselves as they feebly struggle against his hold.

● Animalistic Thomas. Everyone knows Thomas is strong. But seeing him crush bone? If you weren’t in shock, perhaps you’d feel differently, but seeing him protect you made you feel so safe. Thomas was there. No one would hurt you, now.

● He’d struggle to calm down. The instant he finishes with the escapee, Thomas would frantically turn to you. Are you alright? Let him look at you. *Does his best to gently survey the damage* His heart would sink at the realization that you’ll need stitches.

● He’d hate seeing you hurt. Keeping you still, each of your cries would be a stab to the gut. He’d silently will Luda Mae to work faster. Are you holding his hand? Go ahead, (Y/N), squeeze as hard as you need. Afterward, Thomas would gingerly lift you into his arms, caring you upstairs to rest.

● Breakfast in Bed. He wouldn’t leave your side--much to your bemusement. Honestly, it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t need to do all this. Thomas would, obviously, disagree. *Shamelessly spoils you*

Note: Were you thirsty? *Rushes downstairs to get you a glass of sweet tea* Cold? *Buries you in a mountain of blankets* 

“Thomas,” you’d groan. “All I want is rest. Watching you run around is making me tired. Now, come here and snuggle with me. I’m lonely.”

BONUS:

Once you’re healed...