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demona-andariel · 5 months

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A Simple Act of Kindness - 28 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,616

Chapter 28 - Where it all Started

Animal. Monster.

He thought that was it. He thought that he was officially going to lose her forever the other day. In the end, after all they’d gone through, he had to go and fuck it up. Their relationship wasn’t going to be the same and the blame lay completely on him.

Tommy couldn’t help but slowly clench his fingers around his seat belt, ignoring the sting from his bruised knuckles. The butterflies in his stomach hadn’t started because he was recalling the recent past. Although, they weren’t helping his current mood of anxiety.

“Yours.” Her voice heavy with lust echoed in his mind.

It wasn’t Jack, oddly enough, that was going to take her away from him. Oh no. He had been standing there long enough to hear her yell at Jack. He saw the way she recoiled when he called her “Lizzy”. Then that slap followed by that harsh shove when Jack forced her to kiss him. She wanted nothing to do with the handsome man, and it wasn’t for show. She had no idea Tommy was watching.

His heart fluttered and beat harder in his chest as he felt a wave of lust rush over him. He’d seen her angry before, but never like that. Seeing her reaction, hearing that loathing in her voice directed at Jack. She was defending herself while also clearly standing firm about her relationship with Tommy. And that had aroused him. It took all of his strength not to pick her up in that moment and slam her against the barn wall to fuck her hard. Kiss her. Grip her. Feel her nails dig into the skin of his back while she shouted his name in ecstasy. Because, it would be Tommy’s name that would come out of her mouth.

“Yours.”

The flutter in his stomach stopped abruptly as he felt his heart drop. Yes, his. But-

Tommy shot Lizzy a glance, her eyes remained focused on the road. Oh, those lovely eyes of hers had given him a look that broke his heart.

No, he had realized that Jack wasn’t a threat. It was him . Her eyes told him so. Those beautiful eyes that held such love for him yet looked at him with so much fear. She was scared he’d hurt her somehow. After everything, after all the love and care he showered on her, there was still a part of her that saw him as a monster. A part of her that believed he’d cause her pain.

Never, Lizzy .

Even if she ended up escaping, causing him to track her down and drag her back home, he still wouldn’t hit her. Oh, he’d be upset, punch some holes in some walls in frustration. Fuck her hard then mentally plead with her to forgive him. And, she would never enjoy the freedom she was enjoying now, that was for sure. He’d keep her locked up, perhaps even chained if he felt it was necessary. She was the only person in the outside world who treated him with such kindness. Who touched him without recoiling. Who loved him despite it all. He loved her. He needed her. He had to keep her.

He swallowed, doing his best to keep his emotions buried inside of him. There was no need to worry her and have her think something was wrong. Everything was just right.

She chewed on her lower lip as she focused on the road ahead. She looked excited and determined. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel as she drove them down the dirt road. She had no idea where he wanted her to take him.

His fingers tightened on the seatbelt and butterflies filled his stomach as the truck bounced over a pothole. He was always the passenger in any vehicle he’d been in. And, it never really bothered him that he wasn’t in control. That he didn’t know how to drive. He figured she knew and he wasn’t wrong.

Tommy closed his eyes for a moment. He was never going to get tired of surprising her. That look of shock, followed by pure joy and excitement on her face always made his heart soar. He couldn’t get enough of that look.

To his surprise, she hardly hesitated, when he held out the keys to Monty’s truck, before she snatched them. He thought he would have had to do some coaxing to get her into the care. But, she was behind the wheel before he even had a chance to get off the porch. There was a moment, although brief, when he feared she would just take off without him. She could have easily done that. He wouldn’t have been able to catch up to her. She would have been free. But she waited for him.

Trust her. She’s given you no reason to doubt her loyalty. She wants you.

Tommy took a deep breath.

It was funny how his thoughts had changed now. He almost wished that the deep issue lied with Jack. That ending Jack would end his fear of losing her. He’d taken care of her traveling companion, after all. Well, she’d finished the job he’d started. But, he would have killed the man anyway. Killing Jack would not be a problem.

Tommy loosened his fists to give his knuckles a break. They still hurt, from the hard beating he’d inflicted.

He never wanted her to really see that full side of him. The killer. But, the look she gave him, that fear, it made him stop caring. If she saw him as a monster why hold back now? Let the monster out. Let it kill that Jack for getting into her head and making her fear him.

She knew there was a monster in there somewhere, one that had shown up once a long time ago. The first time he took her down into that basement. He partially regretted his actions then. But she never saw his full rage. It was nice, being able to let loose his pent up frustration. How dare Jack touch his Lizzy without her permission. Hoyt did too. Hoyt did worse. But, he couldn’t kill family. Jack… oh, Jack wasn’t family. He could easily murder him.

Lizzy’s pleas were just background noise he hardly registered. And it wasn’t the shotgun blast that stopped him. In fact, it only made him add Mr. Denver to his list of eventual victims. The old man was trying to stop him and it was time that he showed the two he wasn’t to be fucked with. He would have beaten and killed the old man too and then Jack. Worst case scenario, he would die in her arms while she wept over him. A hero for avenging her.

Except, as he stared at that shotgun a thought hit him. What would happen to her if he wasn’t around? Luda Mae would take her home and then Hoyt would… Hoyt would…

Tommy glanced at Lizzy again.

As long as he was around Hoyt would never dare touch her again. He had to leave Jack broken but not dead. At least the man hardly resembled himself and that should have helped calm him down. That should have eased the negative emotions that gripped him. But, that rage was soon mixed with feelings of helplessness. He couldn’t do anything else about Hoyt. And now, Jack was still alive too. Another failure on his end. And Lizzy saw the monster which would only add to her fear.

The car ride back home only made his mood worse. He needed to vent. He needed to expel his pent up frustration. But, he also needed to hold her. Fuck her. Just, he knew that it wasn’t going to be sweet or romantic. He didn’t have it in him to be extra careful in getting her ready for him. He wanted to be raw. Animalistic. Rough. But not too rough that he would severely hurt her. He didn’t want to make love. He wanted to fuck and fuck hard. Even if he had the ability to communicate better with her, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to in that frame of mind.

Monster. The monster was still present and she was going to see him for what he was. She was going to hate him. She was slipping away because he couldn’t control his own rage and lust at that moment. Oh, he tried. He tried to get away from her. His basement, a refuge. The furthest place he could go that he knew she wouldn’t follow. And he could busy himself with his latest victim. But, the damn woman had to follow him.

Tommy let out a gasp and touched her arm, pointing toward an upcoming dirt road. She didn’t hesitate in slowing down and turning where he wanted her to go. His heart jumped in his chest as the road led to a dead end and a large building.

Lizzy gazed up through the window shield, then at him.

“You worked here, right?” she asked.

He nodded his head.

“Huh.” Was her only response. She opened the door before he could get out and stepped out.

He’d been meaning to take her here eventually. For all the bad memories, he was still rather fond of the place. It was what he had known for nearly his entire life. He was literally born there. It was his first and really only job. He shouldn’t have been working there at such a young age, but management didn’t care. And he probably would have worked there until he died if the place hadn’t shut down.

Besides, he figured she needed the distraction. Some new scenery. They’d done all they could in their new house for now. And, staying at home she kept a constant vigil on the phone. He wasn’t sure why. She told him she didn’t leave their number because she wasn’t sure she wanted her parents to call back while she wasn't around. Then muttered about not being sure she wanted them to know where she was.

Tommy took a moment, securing his mask in place. It was highly unlikely they’d run into anyone, but he wasn’t about to take the chance of not having it on. At home, around Lizzy, he felt a little bit more comfortable. He still preferred to have it on, but she liked seeing his face, as odd as it seemed to him. And it was nice, feeling her fingers on his disfigured skin. So much care and tenderness in her touches.

Stepping onto the firm ground, Tommy wandered his gaze looking for her. Panic started to grip him, but he forced it back. He hadn’t scared her away. He needed to keep reminding himself of that fact. She saw the monster. The monster held her, but it hadn’t scared her away.

The truck door opened and Tommy watched as Lizzy placed a couple of sticks onto the seat. Her eyes met his and she giggled.

“Couldn’t decide,” she said. “Figured Chance should have a say in which stick he finds the best. After all, only the best for our puppy,” she stated.

Tommy walked around the truck then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him. She unhooked his mask from his ear so she could kiss his lips properly.

Only the best for you, love , he thought as he held her. His muscles tightened around her waist. Was he the best?

“ Yours.”

Pulling back, he brushed her hair behind her ears. Didn’t matter.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He nodded his head. More than alright , he thought. He didn’t need to explain why he needed to fuck her the way he did, because she understood. She got it without him needing to tell her. She saw the monster. She held the monster. She loved the monster. She was truly his.

“My driving didn’t scare you too much, did it?” she teased. “It has been a little bit since I’ve been behind the wheel.”

He placed his hand on his chin as if he was thinking about it. It did scare him, but not in the way she thought.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Well, no take backs,” she said. She glanced up at the sky then jerked her head toward the factory.

“Well, let’s not waste more daylight,” she said. “Doubt the place has electricity.”

Tommy nodded in agreement.

The two ignored the “No Trespassing” signs on the trees and broken fence. She paused for a brief moment next to a sign that read “Condemned”.

Wrapping her arms around her chest, her body shivered. He frowned. Although they were in Texas, it was getting into those winter months when the evenings were cooler. She wasn’t wearing long sleeves since she was at home for the day. He hadn’t thought about making sure she had something to cover her arms. His fault.

Without another thought, he took off his blazer and placed it over her shoulders. She didn’t protest. Instead, she gave him a grateful smile, slipping her hands through his sleeves. It looked so big on her.

Tommy gulped. A mental image of her walking around in one of his shirts was suddenly very appealing.

“So, always been a meat eater, huh?” She teased, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. She pointed toward the name on the building. “Lee Bros. Beefs, Meats, Poultry.”

He huffed. She moved away from him to wander.

Tommy forced himself to look around instead, putting his hands into his pockets. It was so quiet now without the live animals blaring and waiting for their ultimate doom. Oddly enough, the smell of animals still seemed to linger despite the years that had passed. Or, perhaps it was just his brain recalling.

Tommy’s eyes focused on the old building.

Born in. Worked at. It was what he knew for most of his life. Losing that job because the place had been shut down, condemned, terrified him. His purpose in life had been taken away from him. That was until he started killing people to protect and feed his family.

His gaze wandered till he found Lizzy. He never would have imagined that losing his job, going down the path that he did, would have brought her to him. He thought that was the worst day of his life, but, turns out it truly was the best day. If the factory was still running, he never would have been out on that road that day. Never would have gotten them to swerve their car and crash. Never would have taken her unconscious body home. Never would have made love.

Lizzy tugged a chain that locked two doors together.

“Dammit,” she said. “Maybe it was too much to ask to get a sneak peak inside?”

Tommy felt a smile tug on his lips. He strode over to her and grabbed her hand before escorting her around the building. She followed without protest. All the doors were chained and locked, except for one. The one he had to break to get back inside years ago. The one he still used from time to time.

Tommy reached the door, unhooking the chain that looked as if it was still put together. His eyes danced with amusement as he glanced down at her.

“Now how did you know?” she said in a knowing voice..

He pushed the door open. The inside of the building was practically pitch black, but that was to be expected. The windows were caked in filth and always had been. There was no electricity since no one worked there. Tommy stepped inside then reached up, grabbing a flashlight he’d hidden over a set of lockers.

He gave her a mischievous look as he held it up then flicked it on.

She huffed. “You, mister, are full of surprises, ain’t ya?” she asked. To his joy, she wrapped her arms around his and then pressed her body to him as if she was afraid of the dark and needed his protection. He placed his arm around her and she squeezed him.

Nothing had changed since the place shut down. Everything was still there. The owners never bothered to clear the place out. Not that anything was really worth any money.

Lizzy gasped then pressed closer to him as a few things scattered away from the tiny light. Rats or mice no doubt. He stopped and looked down at her, raising his eyebrows.

Continue?

“I hate critters,” she mumbled, hugging his arm tightly. “But, let’s go on.”

He led her around, automatically following his old routine. Not that there was much to his job. He stopped in front of his workstation where he chopped meat all day. It was an easy job for him. Something he enjoyed despite it being monotonous. Or maybe it was because it was monotonous. He didn’t have to deal with complicated problems. Besides, there was something special about the feel of the cleaver separating meat.

Lizzy let out a yip then let him go to look at the ground. Tommy quickly pointed the flashlight at her feet.

He felt his body freeze for a moment. His cleaver. He never went back for it that fateful day. She picked it up and then examined it before handing it to him.

“Yours?” she asked.

He nodded his head. His fingers slowly clasped the familiar handle. He missed it. The blade was covered in rust. It wouldn’t be able to perform the job it once did. At least, not in the state it was in.

His eyes rose up, following the stairs to the manager’s office above them. Hard to forget the look his manager always gave him. Such disdain and annoyance as if Tommy was some sort of inconvenience.

He didn’t want the closure to be true back then. He tried to ignore it. Tried to keep on with his job as if maybe, by some miracle, the doors would stay open.

“You gotta get the hell out of here, you dumb animal! ” the scared voice of one of his coworkers echoed in his mind. He’d been sent by the manager, Tommy knew that. The old man was too scared to face him.

Tommy’s jaw moved in annoyance. Dumb animal? It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that. But, for some reason, that had been the final trigger. The moment that truly changed his life forever.

Tommy climbed up the stairs and pushed the manager’s office door open and froze just inside. A broken table lay against the wall. The phone, papers, a lamp, and pens all lay on the floor as if they’d been thrown there during a struggle. And they had been.

He moved his flashlight toward a dark stain in the wood. The only thing missing was that man’s body.

“Can’t have good meat go to waste,” Uncle Hoyt had said.

This, Lizzy. This is where it all started.

His first victim. The family’s first taste of human flesh.

Taking in a deep breath, Tommy slowly let it out. Most victims who now fell into the family’s hands, his hands, it wasn’t personal. They were just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Or, they ended up being a threat to the family.

This is where one life ended, Lizzy. And another began. One that led me to you.

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Lizzy said, breaking the silence. Tommy raised his eyebrows and turned to look down at her in surprise.

She quickly clamped her hand on her mouth and shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that. He was a person after all.”

Unhooking his mask, he turned to face her. She didn’t shy away, tilting her head up just a little as his fingers went into her hair. He pulled her to him, pressing his lips firmly against hers. She kissed him back just as eagerly.

The old man did deserve it. They all did for disrespecting him. For seeing him as less than them. Killing that man had given him a strength and power he never expected. Except...

Tommy pulled back and smiled at his soon-to-be legal wife. It would have been nice if the old man was alive for a brief moment just to see that Tommy wasn’t dumb. Or useless. Or an animal. See her by his side. Hell, he could imagine her yelling at the old man in rage at how he used to treat Tommy.

She understood him.

Tommy looked around then nodded to go back downstairs. There was no reason to stay longer in the dark, musty smelling building. He quickly led her back outside and closed the door behind them.

Lizzy stared out into the forest.

“We’re not too far from home,” she stated.

He nodded his head. That was one of the bonuses of his old work. He could walk there if he needed to.

Lizzy examined his face as she thought. “As in, we could have walked here.”

She wasn’t wrong. They had walked that distance a few times now on their little outdoor dates.

“But,” she paused. “You let me drive us here.”

Tommy smiled under his mask.

She threw herself on him, surprising him, partially knocking him off balance. He stumbled back but caught himself. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back as she hugged him. And her face buried into his chest. He didn’t know what else to do but pat her hair.

She wasn’t crying though. Or at least, not audibly.

He waited for her to let him go. She only did long enough to reach up and wrap her arms around his neck. She rose to her tiptoes, her intent was clear. He unhooked his mask to kiss her again.

“I love you, Tommy,” she whispered. Her fingers played with his hair. Monster and all.

I love you too, Lizzy.

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 5 months

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Let Them Know Who You Belong To

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Reader

Summary: You and Ghost had been having a secret situationship for a couple of months now. Lately, though, he had grown possessive over you, getting jealous at any interaction you had with the other soldiers in the base. And it was time he taught you a lesson about who you belonged to.

Warning: nsfw, jealous! simon riley, possessive! simon riley, unprotected sex, p in v sex, shower sex, established relationship, praise kink, dom! simon riley, bratty! reader, claiming, rough sex, smut with little plot, degradation kink, manhandling, not proofread

A/N: so that price fanfic did pretty damn well ;) and I thought I’d try my hand again at writing a smutty fic for simon cus I’m down bad for him. Promise this one will be shorter… hopefully… enjoy!!!

For the last couple of months, you and Ghost had been exclusively fucking each other. Ever since you gathered the courage to fess up your little crush and horny fantasies to him, he’d been kindly fucking your brains out every time you asked (sometimes you didn’t even have to).

But of course, a man like Ghost wouldn’t settle down for anyone, certainly not you; he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just someone that thoroughly enjoyed using you like his personal whore. The two of you had set that boundary very early on and it had been working out since for both.

Which is precisely why Ghost was conflicted about his current feelings as he watched you swoon with one of the men in the base. He watched you from a safe distance, watched as you were cornered against the wall by some guy way below your league, he thought. You were too fine a woman to stand there listening to some average guy’s rambling. Still he watched you giggle at whatever he was saying, batting your eyelashes at him, nudging his arm when he made you laugh.

As he watched you his stomach recoiled, his gloved fist clenched and jaw gritted under his mask. What the fuck could this daft bastard be saying that’s making you laugh so hard?

You caught a glimpse of Ghost in the opposite end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his eyes burning a hole through you. You looked at him through your peripheral vision, shooting him a devilish smirk because you knew it was getting under his skin that you were entertaining another bloke. Truth be told, you weren’t even listening to what this guy was saying; a lot of words and a whole lot of nothing. Regardless, you made a performance for him, laughing and touching the man’s muscled arm as if he was the most riveting man you had come across, all because you loved seeing Ghost’s panties get in a twist. You loved it when he became possessive of you, when he’d get all worked up and reminded you that you were exclusively, his despite there being nothing between the two of you except amazing sex.

He pushed himself off the wall, mumbling curses to himself as he turned away and left. He knew your smirk was directed at him, knew you were riling him up on purpose because he fucked you so good when you made him angry. What a slut you were.

Later that day, you waited for everyone else to hit the showers before you did. You liked having the whole communal space to yourself, so you were always last to take your time and enjoy the privacy. You hadn’t seen Ghost the whole day after that little performance. He must be sulking somewhere and waiting for you to come to him. But you decided you’d let it simmer, leave it for the next day.

You turned on the shower, letting it warm up as you stripped naked and stepped in once it was at a comfortable temperature. You saturated your body and hair, closing your eyes as the water ran down your head and face, enjoying the sensation of it, your tense muscles relaxing. You were blissfully unaware of your surroundings, unwinding from a long day of bullshit from your superiors.

Ghost had spent the whole day scheming about how he’d get back at you for your little antics. He knew your nightly routine of being the very last one to shower. So, he waited for you to enter the shower and he followed close behind you. He snuck inside the shower room, stealthily creeping in without you having a clue. As he faced the shower curtain, he stepped out of his boots, stripping silently and creeping on you covering your naked body in soap suds.

You were facing the shower, eyes still closed, running your soapy washcloth along your body mindlessly. Suddenly, you heard the sound of the shower curtain being ripped open, the sound of metal rings clanking on the bar and rustled plastic. You jumped, shooting your eyes open and looking behind you to find Ghost there.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ghost!” You scolded, keeping a whisper to not alert anyone outside the shower room.

He was standing there naked with the exception of his mask still on but rolled up to his nose. His eyes matched the scowl plastered on his lips; he was proper pissed.

“What, did you think I’d let you get away with that little show you put on for me today?” He growled, stepping into the shower with you.

“Wha— Simon, you’re not supposed to be here!” You ignored his question, genuinely concerned about his intrusion and the possibility of someone coming in. You knew he’d show up to put you in your place but didn’t anticipate it to be at a place like this.

“I asked you a question,” he insisted, grabbing your waist and turning you around to face him. He held your body close to his with a hand wrapped around your waist; you could feel his cock pressed stiff against your abdomen.

You gulped, looking up into his deep brown eyes; they were dark with anger and lust, couldn’t tell which it was more of. You looked at him like a deer in headlights.

“Answer me,” he said through gritted teeth, his grip on your waist tightening. His other hand flew to grasp your jaw, holding it tightly not letting you even try to look away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, looking at him with a smug expression, a twinge of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth. He murmured a curse as his grip on your jaw slid down to your neck, holding it firmly.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart. You know what you did wrong today… and you know the consequences of fuckin’ with me”

In a swift movement, he spun you around, making you face the wall again. You caught yourself from falling by holding your arms out against the wall. You felt one of his hands on your abdomen, keeping you pressed against his body, ass flush with his cock. The other hand entwined in the crown of your head, grasping and pulling your wet hair.

The way he held you drew a whimper from your lips. Your head fell back as he pulled your hair, and you felt his lips against your ear, his hot breath on your skin.

“You enjoy me punishing you, huh, you little slut?” He whispered, his words like poison seething out of his lips.

You responded with just another whimper. “Y-yes” was all you could muster.

“Yes, what? Address your superiors, soldier”

“Yes, sir”

You heard a pleased sound rumble in his throat, then felt his breath on your neck followed by the sensation of his teeth nipping at the tender skin on your neck, making you yelp.

“S-Simon…” You pleaded.

The hand that wasn’t gripping your hair migrated behind you, his palm colliding loudly against your ass, making you jump and whimper at the burning sensation of Ghost’s large hand smacking your asscheek red.

“That’s ‘sir’ to you, sweetheart,” he said, his hand on your ass squeezing and soothing the sensitive flesh.

“ ‘m gonna teach you how to behave, how to be a good girl for me…and everyone in this base is gonna hear it, understood?”

Your face turned bright red and hot. You nodded as best as you could with Ghost’s unrelenting grip on your hair still. “That’s my good slut,” he whispered.

Ghost released your hair, both of his hands sliding to the front of your torso. The two calloused hands moved to squeeze your breasts possessively. His mouth was on the crook of your neck, giving the skin a primal bite, then soothing it with a few tender kisses. You moaned at the sensation.

His fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching them and pulling them up, both simultaneously in synchronicity. He alternated between doing so and massaging the soft sacks. You turned to face him, to try and manage to kiss him. But he pulled away, the clasps on your nipples stilling as he tugged them in a punishing manner. You winced in pleasure.

“Uh-uh, you don’t deserve that,” he mocked you.

Ghost moved his hands up to your shoulders, pushing your torso forward. If it hadn’t been for your hands on the wall you would’ve face planted the tile in front of you with the force of his movements. Now your back was arched, torso leaned forward, and ass presented for him.

He caressed his hands down your back, the gesture felt condescending given how he was treating you. They stopped at your ass cheeks, squeezing them once more. Then, you felt the sting of his hand striking the right one, then the left one. He did that a couple more times, alternating between the two cheeks. You moaned and winced at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“S-sir, please,” you began.

“Please, what? Use your words.

“Just fuck me already, please!”

“Fuck you? I said I’d punish you, love. Good girls get fucked; dirty sluts like you get punished”

As he squeezed your ass he spread both of your cheeks, revealing your slick cunt to him.

“Look at you, your pussy’s glistening f’me. You like me treatin’ you like this, huh?” He chuckled maliciously. You felt two of his thick fingers run up and down the folds of your cunt; you moaned in response.

Ghost slid the two digits inside of you at a painfully slow pace. “Fuckkk, you swallowed them whole, sweetheart, this pussy’s so desperate to be fucked. Too bad ‘m gonna take my sweet time torturing you”

You let out a moan at the intrusion inside of you, then at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out oh so slowly. It was driving you crazy, you just wanted him to ram them into you quick and replace them with his cock already.

“Please, sir, I’ll be good I promise, please just move faster” you sobbed.

“I don’t take orders from you, love” his fingers curled inside your walls, making you jolt at the tight feeling. His other hand kneaded at your ass while he stroked his fingers in an out of you, pace not picking up, and curling them up deep inside of you.

His cock was throbbing at the sight of his fingers entering and exiting you, at how good you looked begging for him to fuck you with your cheeks spread for him like this.

He pumped his fingers in and out, pulling moans out of you. You kept yourself still trying not to push your ass back to fuck yourself on his fingers. You tried your best to be a good girl for him like he ordered; you were just so obedient.

“See? You can be such a good girl for me. Good job princess,” he praised you, “you earned yourself this…”

Ghost reached his other hand around you, settling it between your legs at the front of your pussy, using his index and middle finger to circle your swollen clit. Now he was picking up the pace of the fingers fucking you as well as the two rubbing your sensitive bud. You basked in the feeling, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a breathless moan.

Your legs spread apart to allow him more access to toy your pussy. Your eyes closed as you relished the way he rewarded you.

“Th-thank you, sir” you moaned.

Ghost chuckled “You like that, baby? You like me rewarding you? See how good I can make my girl feel?”

His girl, you thought. You were his girl, you belonged to him. He knew the right ways to touch you, knew his way around your body; how to please you, how to torture you. You bit your lip at the thought and responded with a hum.

He fucked you with his fingers and played with your clit some more, feeling your walls clench around him, indicating that you were close to cumming.

You were a mess of moans and whimpers at this point, mouth agape, letting them fall out of it. Your eyes in the back of your skull and your head thrown back, back arched to the limit. You felt his fingers twist and curl into your pussy, drilling into you, his speed had picked up significantly; that mixed with the pressure on your throbbing clit sent you over the edge.

And soon enough, you were releasing choked out moans, pussy spasming around his fingers as you were getting ready to cum. A wave of pleasure was surging in you and you were eager to let it wash over you.

But Ghost had other plans, so he took his hands away from you, now gripping your hips. You practically sobbed.

“N-no, no, no, Simon— sir, please! Please, please, let me cum I’m so close, please!” You were crying at this point, looking back at Ghost with pleading eyes. You met his face that wore an evil smirk, his eyes dark with malice.

“That’s a good fucking girl. You’re so pretty when you beg for me to let you cum.” He chuckled, his hands massaging your hips, holding them tightly.

“You’re not gonna cum until I do, lovie” he said, aligning the painfully swollen head of his cock with your desperate cunt. He relentlessly slammed his cock inside of you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure. He was so rough but you were yearning to be filled by his massive member. He let out a primal groan when he felt your warm walls clasp his dick inside of you.

“ ‘m gonna fuck you senseless now, alright? That fucker you were giggling with would never fuck you this good, would he, princess?”

“No! Never, never like you, sir! No one’s as good as you!” You moaned, your walls clenched around his motionless cock to give yourself some relief. Then, you felt Ghost slowly pull out entirely, before ramming his dick back inside of you, making you cry out.

He pounded into you, slowly but firmly and deep. His grip on your hips was bruising as he slammed himself inside of you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin was louder than the sound of the water hitting the tiles. You moaned consumed by euphoria.

Ghost held your hip with one hand while the other slithered to the back of your neck, holding it to make himself slam into you impossibly deeper and harsher. Your tender ass cheeks were growing redder from his skin slapping against them. His pace was quick and rough, groans and curses falling from his lips.

“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? My girl, my pussy to fuck. This cunt belongs to me…only for my cock”

You responded with a string of moans and yeses, too cockdrunk and out of it to say any proper responses. Your climax was creeping up on you once again; the wave rising.

Then, you felt Ghost maneuver your body, twisting your torso slightly to the side, and lifting one of your legs by your thigh. You were now almost on your side, the leg in his grasp opening your cunt better for him, and you were standing on your other leg with some leverage from your arm on the wall. If it wasn’t for Ghost holding most of your bodyweight, you would’ve toppled over.

This new angle made him penetrate you deeper, opening yourself up for him. And now you could see behind you, him standing there thrusting deeply into you, huffing like an animal as he fucked you silly.

He was a sight to behold; muscles coated in water and sweat, glistening with droplets of water running down his body, his lips parted and juicy, practically drooling for you, and his eyes devoured you.

“There’s my girl, that face is so fuckin’ pretty,” he said as he thrust into you quickly and deeply

“Love how deep I am in your pussy…gonna make me cum soon… ‘m gonna cum in your pussy so you know it’s mine.”

“Gh-Ghost, ahh, I wanna cum, please” you moaned, tears running down your face.

“Cum for me, baby, you have permission. Say my fucking name, make sure everyone hears you.” He said breathlessly, possessively, with a hint of sweetness. “Make sure everyone knows who fucks you this good, who you belong to.”

And that you did. You moaned “Simon” loudly, practically screaming his name. You repeated it over and over like a chant as you came undone on his cock. You clenched around him, legs shaking as you came and sobbed out his name. Your body went limp as Ghost held you, fucking you and using you to attain his own climax.

His hips shook, thrusts faltering as he released hot, sticky ropes of cum that pooled within you. You moaned in unison as you felt him flood your pussy. He cursed under his breath, his thighs shaking as he came down from his high.

He held your tired body and accommodated you, helping you stand. You both panted in the shower. Cum was dripping down your leg and Ghost helped your rinse it away since you were too drained to even move. You were trying to catch your breath, legs wobbly and your pussy abused.

He loved the sight of you all fucked out like this. And you loved how he took care of you after fucking you like this. You turned to face him, using his shoulders to support yourself, and looked into his eyes; a tired smile on your lips.

“Do I deserve a kiss now?” You said innocently.

Ghost scoffed, unable to help how the corners of his lips curled. He cupped your face with one hand and leaned in to kiss you. He was hungry for it, definitely wanting to kiss you this whole time but holding back to drive his point home. You kissed him with as much pleasure and desire, humming into his mouth.

“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? Don’t wanna see you do that again” He scolded you in a whisper against your lips.

You let out an impish giggle, “I just love riling you up. But I’m all yours, Si.”

A/N: I’m sorry!!! It’s long as fuck again!!! But I tried!!! Anyways >:( hope you loved it you rascals <3

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demona-andariel · 6 months

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So apparently some people new to Tumblr think a repost and a reblog are the same thing, so when they see creators asking for people to not repost, they're thinking the creators are saying to not reblog 😭

Y'all, a repost is when you copy/download the work and create a new post using the work making it seem as if it's yours. A reblog is you using a site provided feature to share the creator's post directly from the creator so that it's still credited to them and they still get all of the traction/notes from the work.

Please, reblog fics/art/etc. that you enjoy! Reblogging is not reposting! Creatives need support too, and reblogging is a way to do that!

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demona-andariel · 6 months

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A Simple Act of Kindness - 27 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,504

Chapter 27 - White and Butterflies

Lizzy’s heart pounded dramatically in her chest. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her feel slightly queasy. It was rather silly, the anxious feelings that still fluttered inside of her.

She pressed her hands against her stomach to try and calm her nerves. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against the lace fabric as she stared at the door leading out of the dressing room. She wasn’t ready to step out just yet.

Yesterday had turned into a rather pleasant day, despite how the morning started. They talked, or at least talked as best as they could. Communicated. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t talked before. But, this time felt different, special. She told him that she loved him. His love for her was no secret but she’d never openly admitted her own feelings. She’d known for a while he’d stolen her heart. But, vocally admitting to it scared her. It wasn’t right to love him, but it was right for her.

“I love you.”

Perhaps it would have been better if it had been said in a more romantic setting. The two of them at dinner or maybe after some loving, tender sex. Not the desperate, hard, forceful, rough sex he needed. But, it felt right to say it then. Right to tell him that she loved him. Have her voice say it for him to hear.

Lizzy bit her lip. Three simple little words that held so much meaning.

“Lizzy dear, do you need help?” Luda Mae called out.

Time’s up, she thought.

“I’m coming out,” Lizzy replied. Placing her hand on the door handle, she took in a deep breath then exhaled before stepping out.

Henrietta let out a sharp gasp and she placed her hand over her mouth.

“My word,” Luda Mae said softly.

The two women had practically the same look on their faces of dazzled awe. They were clearly being a bit over dramatic with their reactions. Lizzy felt her blood rush up to her cheeks as her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t the first wedding dress she’d tried on today.

Ducking her head, Lizzy headed to a single full length mirror to get a better look at herself. Luda Mae wasn’t too far behind her.

She swallowed.

It was difficult to breathe, in more ways than one. She started to run her sweaty palms along the dress she wore before clenching her fingers and setting her hands to her sides. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a bridal catalog. The white dress, with a tulle overlay and lace embroidery, hugged her upper body, fitting her almost a little too snugly. But at least it flared out just below her hips. Long lace sleeves covered up her arms and the burn scars, not that it mattered to her if they showed or not. The pristine white wedding dress made both Hewitt women behind her look drab in comparison.

“You look like an angel,” Luda Mae said softly, gently tugging on the fabric.

“It’s so lovely on you,” Henrietta said.

Lizzy absentmindedly nodded her head in agreement. Out of the handful of wedding dresses, or at least passable white dresses, she’d tried on, this was by far her favorite. But of course it was her favorite. It was the one. The moment she saw it she knew it was the one meant for her. The perfect wedding dress.

“It is lovely, but completely impractical,” Lizzy found herself saying. She gave Luda Mae a look through the mirror and raised her eyebrows. Satisfied? The silent question went unanswered by the older woman.

It was the first dress that had caught Lizzy’s attention when they were looking at the limited selection of dresses at the small local shop. The first and only dress she knew she wanted, and the first dress she immediately dismissed, refusing to try on because it had to be the most expensive one. She didn’t even have to look at the price tag. She just knew. There was no way they’d be able to afford it. Despite her objections, Luda Mae had practically shoved it onto her and told her there was no harm in trying it.

No harm, but also a waste of time. They couldn’t afford the dress. Besides, a wedding dress, especially the one she had on, was meant to be shown off to a crowd not to just a handful of people at best. And there was going to just be a little over a handful of people at the wedding.

They talked about it last night. The wedding. It was just the three of them: Tommy, Luda Mae, and her. Monty didn’t care and wasn’t interested and Hoyt had gone to his room once he finished eating. She was glad he was avoiding her like the plague.

If she had it her way, he wouldn’t even be at the wedding, but Luda Mae had included him in the extremely short list of people they wanted to be there. If the Hewitts had other extended family besides Henrietta and the Tea Lady, they never came up. Then Luda Mae asked her about her family. The question had stunned Lizzy. She’d never bothered to entertain the thought of ever seeing them again. She had been a prisoner after all. She didn’t start out living with them of her own free will. Now suddenly there was the very real possibility of having them see her get married.

She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Her extended family would talk, whisper among themselves. They wouldn’t understand and would never understand what she saw in Tommy. She couldn’t explain to them why she was marrying into the Hewitt family. Couldn’t explain that she’d fallen for Tommy despite everything. And, although she didn’t care what they thought in the end, Tommy would. He was sensitive. He would notice the stares. See the difference in clothing between his family and hers. She could trust most of them to be sensible enough to at least talk behind her back, and not to her face. But, she couldn’t trust her mother. The woman prided herself in “telling it how it is” even if it was hurtful. She wasn’t going to support Lizzy in the slightest and she’d make sure to let that be known.

But… She had come to the realization that it would be nice to see her parents again. Even if it was one last time. If she got a hold of them.

You shouldn’t feel disappointed, she reminded herself. It is a weekday and they’re going to be working.

She hadn’t planned on calling them today. Neither did she plan on looking for a wedding dress. They hadn’t even set up a date yet.

Tommy. Her sweet Tommy.

Clearly, he loved surprising her. It was just after breakfast when he took her by the hand and led her to the unused office room. She knew there was a phone there, but she figured it didn’t work. She’d never heard it go off during her entire stay. And, no one ever stopped her from going into that room alone.

Lizzy felt her heart flutter as she pressed her fingers to her cheek. He had given her a simple kiss on her cheek, before picking up the phone receiver and handing it to her then he walked away, giving her privacy she didn’t expect.

It had surprised her just how nervous she was when the phone started to ring and she found herself almost puking. She was going to ask him to let her call her parents. But she didn’t plan on doing it today. Maybe tomorrow. She wasn’t mentally prepared to talk to them at that moment. Her mind had swirled with what she would say… could say. She couldn’t tell them the truth. Something close to it, but she hadn’t made a plan yet. Did she even want them to know where she was at? The fact that they were looking for her still shocked her.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Neither of them picked up the house phone and she ended up leaving a quick message. “Hey, mom, dad. I’m fine. Sorry I haven’t called. I’m out in the middle of nowhere and lost track of time. Umm… I’ll call you back later. Bye.” She would have left the house phone number if she even knew what it was.

It’s a weekday, she reminded herself again. Both of her parents loved their careers. They wouldn’t be sitting at home waiting for her to call. But still, she had felt unnecessarily disappointed that she didn’t get to talk to them, now that she had the opportunity. A mood that Tommy had clearly picked up on. She was sure he was the reason his cousin “suddenly” showed up about the “sale”. A “sale” that actually wasn’t happening.

And now here she was, trying on wedding dresses. Plain, white dress! That was all she needed, nothing fancy. As much as she liked it, it would be a waste of money. Besides, it wasn’t like they were going to have a big wedding. A wedding that would show off the lovely dress she had on.

Lizzy clenched her jaw, despite herself. She stared at her reflection and smoothed the dress again. Her mother would probably find some sort of fault in it anyway. Or, she’d state if they were going to spend money on such a fancy dress then they would have to invite more people. Tommy would like that though. There had been clear disappointment on his face when Luda Mae had agreed with her that a smaller wedding was better. Of course he was disappointed. He wanted to show her off.

Still, she’d prefer just the nine of them, if her parents chose to show up, dressed in their Sunday best and with only a judge to officiate. Quick, simple, go home and celebrate together.

“Grandmama’s pearls would fit so well with this dress,” Henrietta said softly. Her eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy.

“Are you alright, dear?” Luda Mae asked. “You’re pale.”

Lizzy nodded her head, fighting back the sudden feeling of nausea as her world spun a little. Pearls. Wedding dress. Wedding. Her parents. Officially attaching her life to Tommy. Things were starting to become a little too real again.

“It’s a bit snug, a little hard to get a full breath,” she said, pushing against her chest, trying to find some good reason why it wasn’t the right pick. “I really think the third dress I tried on is the best.” It was simple, cheap and not entirely a wedding dress although it was white. She could make it look passable, just some extra fabric and a sewing machine.

Luda Mae stepped in front of her and examined her. “It does seem to fit you rather tight around here.” Luda Mae paused then smiled. “You have gotten better about your eating habits. You had us worrying with how skinny you were.”

Lizzy didn’t reply. She hadn’t thought about her weight before. They were probably right. It was difficult to eat when she was mourning her brother, and then the stress of the situation she was in didn’t help matters. But over the last month she’d found it easier to eat. She just conveniently ignored the fact she was eating questionable meat.

“Be a dear, Henrietta and see if Mr. Wells is around,” Luda Mae said. “He owns the store. Perhaps we can come to some sort of deal.”

Henrietta was already walking away before Lizzy could stop her.

“Luda Mae,” Lizzy said softly, catching the older woman’s wrist. “There’s no need. I’m sure the dress will still be here if and when we choose to get it.”

Luda Mae gave her a small smile. “Oh, Lizzy,” she said with a sigh. “You will learn soon enough. This town has a way of.” She paused. “Taking away what we want.”

“Well,” Lizzy pushed back. “If it’s not here when we come to it then it’s not meant to be. Honestly, we don’t need this. It’s a simply dress that I’ll wear at best for a single day. We can get the third one, maybe buy some fabric and fix it up to look nicer. He won’t care what I’m wearing in the end.”

Luda Mae’s smile brightened and pressed her hands against Lizzy’s.

“Nonsense,” Luda Mae said. “My future daughter-in-law should have the dress she wants for her wedding day. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Lizzy didn’t release her grip. “Luda Mae,” she said again with more firmness in her voice. It felt like a curse now, knowing the financial situation the family was in. Not that she would have acted any differently. And, asking for a favor? To get a dress she was only going to wear once? That seemed rather silly.

Luda Mae averted her eyes for a moment.

“Let me do this, Lizzy,” she said softly, focusing on Lizzy again. “I.” She paused for a moment, then placed her hands on Lizzy’s. “I see it now. And I’m sorry.”

Lizzy frowned, resisting the urge to pull her hand away. Why was she apologizing? Feelings of confusion and uncertainty swirled inside of her. Was it possible?

Although Luda Mae had apologized over a month ago for what Hoyt had done, Lizzy never truly believed the woman was completely sorry. She figured Luda Mae was just saying what she thought was necessary in that moment.

“The way you look at him,” Luda Mae continued. She raised her eyes to focus on Elizabeth’s. “The love you have for my boy. After all we put you through. What I allowed you to be put through. You still somehow kept that love in your heart.” She pressed her hand against Elizabeth’s chest.

Elizabeth swallowed, trying to wet her throat that had suddenly become dry. Her eyes stung with tears, but she fought them back. She couldn’t cry.

Luda Mae paused and picked invisible specs of lint off of the dress. “I knew from the moment you touched his arm without fear that you were meant to stay with us. That you were different from everyone else who rejected him. But, then I got scared. I worried that I was wrong. Worried that you were just faking it and would break my son’s heart. His love for you was immediate. And I know girls that look like you. You would have destroyed him. If people here, who he grew up around, rejected him and hurt him, how could a stranger, someone not family, really care for him?”

Luda Mae raised her eyes to look into Lizzy’s. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and cupped Lizzy’s cheek.

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone with him,” Luda Mae said.

Lizzy stopped breathing for a moment as her body went stiff. “No,” she replied automatically. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But-”

But they wouldn’t have gotten Chance. She’d still be an outcast in his family despite his best efforts. She would still be worried for her life. Fearful that one misstep would end her on one of those meat hooks in the basement. She would care for Tommy, but not the way she felt for him now. She wouldn’t have trusted or loved him as she did now.

“No,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head, interrupting Luda Mae before she could continue. “No buts. Hoyt broke me, Luda Mae.” Despite the good that had proceeded, it was a heavy price to pay. It could have been avoided if she hadn’t felt the need to protect herself. “There’s a part of me that’s still broken. And I don’t know if it’ll ever get completely fixed.”

Time was helping and Tommy was doing his best. But, Hoyt was still around, still a threat. He probably would always be a threat to her. He’d be waiting for some royal fuck up from her end to finally pounce again. But, she couldn’t dwell on that.

“But, let’s not talk about that now,” Lizzy said. “As pretty as this dress is, it’d be silly to get it. It’ll just be the seven of us in the end, Luda Mae. Honestly, I’m sure we can transform that third dress into something that rivals this one.”

Luda Mae shook her head. “I don’t see why we should put in the time and work when we can get this lovely gown,” she said.

Lizzy curled her fingers into a fist.

“I guess,” she managed to say. Turning on her heels, she went back to the dressing room. There was no point in arguing, especially in the middle of the shop. She’d just have to keep insisting once they get home. Or, spin a tale to convince Tommy that the dress was unnecessary so he would back her up.

Mixed feelings flowed through her. Luda Mae was actually trying to make things right. Or, trying to apologize and mean it. But, buying the wedding dress wasn’t going to fix or make what had happened to her right. Although, it was nice to hear Luda Mae actually sound regretful.

“Still can’t afford it,” she whispered to herself as she held the fabric in her hands. They couldn’t afford it. And she didn’t want the family to get into unnecessary debt because of her.

“A baby will only make money tighter,” she mumbled as she planned another speech to give to Luda Mae in the car. The woman raised Tommy. She had to know that babies weren’t cheap. And it wasn’t like her and Tommy were being careful to not get pregnant. Not anymore.

A baby.

Lizzy grunted as she pulled up her jeans. It was time to start talking and making plans for that too. Turn that from wishful planning to actual planning. With the amount of unprotected sex they were having, there was no telling when she’d actually get pregnant. It was also made worse by the fact that she didn’t have regular periods. Going to the doctor was really the only way she would be able to know for sure, shy from showing obvious signs.

Chills ran down her spine at the thought.

Dr. Hawkins had yet to show up to any family function. And, Luda Mae hadn’t mentioned him when Lizzy asked who they would invite to the wedding. But, that didn’t mean much. There were only two people who could have given Hoyt the information about her IUD. The nurse or Dr. Hawkins. She hadn’t seen the nurse either.

Lizzy bit her lip. One thing was clear, she couldn’t trust the whole damn office. The problem was, once she got pregnant she might have to see him. Unless Luda Mae would be willing to drive her to another town. Unfortunately, the closest town was at least an hour away. Time. Money.

Lizzy ran her fingers through her hair for a moment, then pressed her hand against her neck. She was going to have to start paying better attention to her body and any possible changes. Grabbing her shirt, she paused. Slowly, she ran her hands along her flat stomach and tilted her head to one side. She hadn’t really given herself much of a look over the last few weeks. She didn’t feel the need to. But, as she turned and gave herself a better look in the mirror, she realized Luda Mae was right. She had gotten slightly larger. Although it was hardly noticeable at the same time. Maybe it was just their imaginations. Or hope?

Her mind went through the little checklist she learned in school when it came to being pregnant. Signs to look out for.

She squeezed her breasts. They felt tender, but that could be explained away by the sex she had yesterday. She had also been feeling a bit fatigued during the last few weeks, but figured that was because of all the excitement and keeping herself busy with the house.

Taking in a deep breath, she slowly let it out. There really wasn’t much to go on that couldn’t be explained away. Still. She’d have to keep a close eye on herself. Tell Tommy? No, she thought. At least, not yet. She didn’t want him to get too excited only for it to be a false alarm.

A sharp knock made her jump. “Mr. Wells said he’d hold the dress for us for a week,” Henrietta said excitedly.

Lizzy felt her heart skip a beat and for a moment she was happy.

“Sounds good, Etta,” she replied back.

She stared at the dress for a moment, before putting it back on the hanger. She did want it, but, if she was pregnant then that would be another reason not to get it. It wasn’t designed to be let out. It would be even more of a waste if she couldn’t wear it.

At least they weren’t buying it immediately. She had a week to convince them to not buy it at all.

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 7 months

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A Simple Act of Kindness - 26 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4,854

Chapter 26 - Chance

Scooby yapped and ran around in a little fenced area that they had set up for the pup before its arrival. It didn’t sense the bit of tension coming from the humans around it.

Lizzy leaned over and grabbed his ball and threw it. The puppy barked before rushing after it.

The truck door slammed closed, catching her attention. She turned and looked behind her. Thomas put Monty’s wheelchair into the back of the truck and then clapped the side, letting Luda Mae know she could leave.

Good. Although it probably was a better idea to have Luda Mae and/or Monty around so that she could get verbal answers, she wanted to be alone with Tommy. She needed to look into his eyes. Let him show his full emotions because sometimes, he did hold back around his family at times.

Luda Mae didn’t hesitate in driving down the dirt road and away from the home, leaving Lizzy and Tommy alone.

Lizzy felt her heartbeat pick up and her eyes fell on him. He stared after the truck.

“Tommy?” she called out.

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he lowered his head and went into the house. There was a brief moment where she felt like cowering and just waiting with Scooby for Tommy to come back. She was still-

A frown crept over her face and she clenched her fingers into a fist.

No! She wasn’t a captive. Or a prisoner. He said she was his wife. She wasn’t going to let him do this. They were taking steps forward, not backwards. This was backwards.

With Scooby safe in the little fenced in pen, she stormed into the house. She had to take a chance and prove to herself that things weren’t going backwards.

“Tommy!” she yelled. She ripped her hat off her head and threw it to the ground.

He was in the middle of the hallway. His body froze, surprised by her raised voice. His hand was on the doorknob leading to the basement. She saw him give her a quick glance then he shook his head.

She stormed down the hallway. There was no way she was going to let him escape this conversation. They needed to talk.

She slammed her hand against the door as he opened it. It shut with a loud bang. Before he could try and open it again, she put her body between the door and him and leaned back.

“We need to talk,” she said firmly, gazing up into his hazel eyes.

He was giving her that look still. So dangerous and wild. His mask shifted slightly as he clearly clenched his jaws. Closing his eyes, Tommy jerked his head to one side and huffed, shaking his head. She grabbed his arm before he could get away.

“Don’t let that asshole turn you against me,” she said. Her voice sounded both desperate and angry. It wasn’t fair! “Don’t give him that chance to prove-”

Tommy ripped his mask off and spun around, interrupting her words with a desperate kiss. His actions surprised her, causing her whole body to stiffen. He pawed at her body. He didn’t let her think, hardly let her breathe as his mouth pressed against her. She felt his lips part and easily opened her mouth to accept his tongue.

Her whole body tingled and came to life with every touch. And he didn’t waste his touches. Sneaking his hands under her clothes to feel her skin. She heard a rip and felt the air brush her skin as he tore her shirt. He forced her bra down to release her breasts.

She let out a gasp of surprise at his ruthlessness. She partially staggered backwards. His large body pressed against her, ushering her wherever he wanted her to go. She let out a little moan as she felt his hardening flesh press against her thigh. This had to be a good thing, didn’t it? She had to hope.

He clearly wanted to fuck her. But, he always wanted to fuck her.

She broke their desperate kiss to grunt, as her ass hit a small table that was against the wall. Tommy swiped his hand across the surface, knocking off the only decoration that was on it: A wicker basket that had a dead bouquet of flowers.

Before she could really think, his big hands squeezed her sides and he easily lifted her onto it. The wood creaked with her weight. Her heart picked up with worry. Could it hold her? Just as she started to question, the strain on her muscles brought her back to the present.

Tommy had worked quickly, without her even realizing it. She was folded in half, ankles on his shoulders, back pressed to the wall, ass on the table. He’d pulled her pants down to her knees, before apparently giving up.

“Tommy, I don’t-”

A moan and a shudder ran through her as he not to subtly pushed his cock into her. She yelped but that didn’t stop him this time. He grunted and then gasped, forcing her to open for him, which was rather difficult, with the way her legs were closed against his chest. She was a little wet, but not enough, not like she usually was before he fucked her.

The burn. The stretch. It hurt.

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, squeezing her fingers into his arms, clutching the sleeves of his shirt. It’d been a while since his cock hurt her the way it did. He was large, but he’d been so good at making sure she was prepared and slow when it seemed as if she was uncomfortable.

He froze for a brief moment. That was enough for her. Enough for her to understand. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he desperately needed to be in her.

“Keep going,” she managed to say. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted him in her till he froze.

His arm held her legs close to his chest, she didn’t even care that her body wasn’t in a comfortable position. His left hand pressed against the wall. He lowered his head, his hair moved to cover his face. He dragged his cock back, making her hiss.

The first harsh snap of his hips against hers sent stars crossing her vision.

The wood rattled and creaked with each hard, deliberate thrust, matching his breathing. He sounded so focused, so serious.

“Mine,” he whispered.

His. That word sent her blood rushing down and the knot in her stomach to tighten.

That was it, she realized. He wasn’t mad or upset with her. He wanted to desperately fuck her. But he didn’t want to be delicate about it. He wanted to claim her in a feral way, let the men know, let Jack know. He’d shoved her away and was trying to avoid her because he was probably worried that he’d go to far. That she was too fragile to do what he wanted to do. He was trying to protect her from himself.

She bit her lip, moaning with each harsh connection between them. She loved it. Not enough to want to do it all the time, but there was something hot about the whole situation. It hurt, he was a little too big, but it felt good too. Wanted even. Perhaps, it hurt him a little bit too.

But, he was so desperate, he didn’t care.

She opened her eyes to look at him, but he kept his head bent. Perhaps he felt ashamed by his own need. He didn’t want to hurt her, she knew that. And he probably figured he was hurting her, which wasn’t completely a lie either. But, it also felt good.

“Yes, baby. Harder. Fuck me harder,” she said between staggered breaths.

His head jerked up at her words, but, to her relief, he didn’t pause. She bit her lower lip and nodded her head. She wanted to kiss him, but there was something about staring into his eyes, seeing the heat and greed in them. The triumph that she was his.

“Yes,” she moaned. She gripped his arms tighter. “Yours. All yours. Oh fuck!”

He started slamming into her harder and faster. The tabled groaned and there was a small part of her that worried it would break on them and sending her crashing down. Except, even if it did break, she wouldn’t fall to the ground. He’d catch her. He was strong enough. Probably pin her to the wall with little effort and keep fucking her without losing much rhythm.

“Mine,” he said. His free hand moved to her neck. He didn’t squeeze hard, just applied enough pressure for her to feel him.

His strength, his need, his heat, the feral way he was acting, it flipped all the switches in her head and through her body.

“I’m going to come,” she cried out. She wanted to writhe about, but he held onto her firmly. The tension in her belly snapped and she found it difficult to breathe. His cock kept driving into her, hard and fast through her orgasm.

It took a few moments for her to come back to herself. The moment she seemed to settle, he let her neck go and leaned in. His head rested by her own. His breathing changed and his rhythm became uneven. He was reaching his end. His free hand grabbing her hip to steady her. She could feel his hot breath on the skin of her shoulder. The wooden legs of the table creaked and groaned as it was slammed against the wall with her.

It was back to hurting, now that her orgasm had settled her body down. But, she didn’t care. She squeezed his forearms hard to push through the uncomfortable position and slight pain she was in. She wasn’t going to ruin it for him.

“Mine.” He let out a guttural moan, pushing in deep.

She gasped and let out a long, loud moan of her own as his cock pulsed and twitched inside of her. He was filling her up once again. Not that she cared anymore. She rather enjoyed the feel of him and the joy he got from coming inside of her. His big hands grabbed her waist and held her still, as if he was afraid she’d try to move away before he was done.

His body trembled slightly from his aftershocks and neither moved. She didn’t want to. She wanted him to stay in her for a bit longer. There was no way to stop his deflating cock from slipping out of her. She fought back the pang of disappointment as her insides felt empty once again.

She let out a sigh. He shifted his position, allowing her to lower her legs and press her knees to his chest.

His fingers dug into her waist. She felt his forehead against her shoulder and his teeth scrapped her skin as he gave her a little nibble. Raising her hands, she ran her fingers through his hair and hummed.

“I love you, Tommy,” she said softly in his ear.

His whole body stiffened as he stopped breathing.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever said it out loud to you,” she continued, running her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s hard for you to understand. Hard for you to trust. The world’s been cruel to you.” She kissed his cheek.

He turned his head to watch her.

“You stole my heart, Tommy,” she said. “I can’t imagine living my life without you.”

He leaned in and softly kissed her lips.

“Mine,” he whispered.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yours.”

He moved back, finally releasing her.

It was easy for him to tuck himself back into his pants. Although it was easy for her to pull her pants back up, she did have to go upstairs to change her shirt.

She felt slightly dazed by the whole thing. Raw, desperate, pure need and lust. They needed to do that again. She’d have to tell him, not hint it. Just tell him that sometimes it’d be okay if he was a little more ruthless. Come up with a safe word perhaps just in case things started to get out of hand.

Despite the awkward position and strain on her muscles, she felt more at ease. Relaxed.

She heard a puppy bark and stepped to the window to look outside. Tommy threw a ball into the yard and the pup dashed after it. He’d let it out.

She was quiet when she opened the front door and quiet when she closed it. She didn’t want either the puppy or Tommy to stop playing with each other. Taking the chance and hoping she wouldn’t get noticed right away, she sat on the steps and leaned against the post to watch them.

The puppy noticed her sit down much to her dismay. It yipped and rushed to her.

“Hey, boy,” she said happily. She playfully pat the pup and looked up at Tommy, giving him a smile. He let out a disappointed sigh as he walked to her.

“Sorry,” she murmured. She didn’t like it that he felt rejected by the pup as well.

She expected him to sit down, but he walked past her and up the porch steps.

“Baby?” she asked as he stepped inside. She glanced behind her, before letting out a sigh. “Your daddy can be hard to figure out some times,” she said to the pup. Taking the ball, she threw it.

The front door opened loudly again, but she didn’t look at him. Not until she felt his hand on her head as he set her hat on it.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling up at him.

He let out a grunt then sighed before he sat down next to her. He hardly settled next to her before she leaned into him. He chuckled then wrapped his arm around her back.

She wrestled the ball from the puppy for a moment before throwing it. The moment the ball left her hand Tommy snatched her wrist. She let him examine her palm, the very palm she used to smack Jack. He kissed her skin, then her fingers. She let out a content sigh and interlaced her fingers with his and they rested their arms on his leg.

“I’m glad we’re never going to see that asshole again,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. Tommy nodded his head. Although, they probably would.

Lizzy gulped then let out a sigh and sat up.

Scooby meandered closer to them. He looked as if he wanted to get closer. Then, he dropped the ball some feet away before plopping down under the shade to rest.

“You know,” Lizzy said, taking the opportunity to talk to Tommy.

He gazed down at her. His eyes once again soft and caring. His fingers brushed her cheek as if he was reassuring himself she was still there. Still smiling. Still content.

“I didn’t go inside to fuck you,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably at it. “But, it was rather… interesting. Nice.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“We do need to talk,” she said, this time giving her tone more seriousness.

He nodded his head.

“I’ve been thinking.” Butterflies filled her stomach. “A successful marriage means open communication. And, I want you to be able to depend on me too. If there’s something you need to tell me, but it’s too complicated then have Luda Mae help you. Sit me down so she can explain with you being next to me.”

Tommy opened his mouth, but she placed her finger on his lips.

“Just, listen for a moment. Okay? I want this, us, to work,” she continued. “And not just be sex. Whatever secrets even if they’re uncomfortable but need to be said should come from you. I’m not saying you have to tell me everything. I think it’s okay to keep some things private if we want. But, I’d rather not hear it from some asshole who is trying to poison what we have going because they’re jealous. Because they think you don’t deserve good things.”

A sliver, in the back of her mind, reminded her he didn’t deserve good things. She squashed it. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care that he killed people. That he and his family, and even her now, ate people. She didn’t care that technically he did rape her. She’d forgiven him for what he’d done to her. And as for the rest, well…

Hoyt was probably kicking himself for raping her. The event had done the opposite of what he wanted. It pulled her into the family. Luda Mae was more open with her, even bringing her into the conversation and asking for her opinions even with her sister and Henrietta around.

And Tommy had started telling her about his childhood, through Luda Mae or Henrietta of course. And, Lizzy was starting to understand Tommy more and his clear hate and indifference toward killing others who weren’t his family. Every good story centered around the family. She didn’t hear much about his schooling. His work. Nothing about outside friends.

There was one story that made Tommy particularly proud. She had noticed, when Henrietta recounted the tale, he sat up eagerly. His eyes had focused on Lizzy to see her reaction. It was the first time he’d stood up to a bully. There was so much pride in Henrietta’s voice when she said the kid’s arm was broken, making it impossible for him to play any sport for the rest of the year. A fitting punishment in Lizzy’s mind, and she had showed him her happiness by kissing him.

She hated bullies. She’d told Tommy as much. She dropped hints here and there that there was a darker side to her against those she saw as her enemy. Even told him a couple of tamer stories. One day she would have to tell him about the time she broke a cheerleader’s leg for leading her brother on. It was the first time her parents actually had to shell out money to keep her out of trouble.

Trouble.

“Tommy.” She placed her hands on his face. “I’m glad you beat the shit out of him.”

His pupils dilated in surprise. Tommy gulped. He opened his mouth but she continued.

“Now, he told me something. Something I suspected, but I never gave it much thought until now, because, well… I wasn’t in a position to need to think about it. I am now. Or at least, I should be. I’m here with you. I should know important things too. Is your family broke?”

The color rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, confirming her suspicions. She let out a sigh and wrapped her arms around his large chest and hugged him, pressing her ear to his heart.

“I wish I’d known,” she mumbled into his shirt. He let out a sigh and scooped her up, making her sit on his lap. She let out a hum and breathed in his scent. With a deep sigh, she tilted her head up. “Tell me honestly, is it bad? Your financial situation.”

He opened his mouth, she wasn’t sure if it was to deny it. But then he briefly closed his eyes before shaking his head.

“Not that bad.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You know that money isn’t important to me, right?” she asked. She got off his lap and stood, placing her hands on her hips. “You probably think it is because my parents are well off and gave me everything I wanted that I’d think less of you if you couldn’t. That I’d look down on you for not making enough. But I don’t need material things. Love me, feed me. That’s all I really care about. As long as we have a roof over our heads, some food on the table, and I have your whole love and support I don’t need anything else.”

His eyes scanned her face as he studied her.

Scooby yipped, catching her attention. She grabbed the ball from his mouth and threw it. It rushed after its runaway toy. With a sigh, she motioned toward the puppy.

“We could have waited to get the dog. And maybe we should seriously think about waiting to have a kid-”

Tommy quickly stood up. His strong hands gripped her shoulders tightly, turning her completely to face him. His eyes blazed with a fierceness as he shook his head. He didn’t want to wait any longer than they were already waiting.

She rubbed her belly for a moment as they stared at each other.

“Okay,” she finally said, raising her hands in the air. “No extra waiting. What about a job? I can work for a while. When I get pregnant-”

Tommy shook his head.

“I want to help,” she said. “I’m a part of the family, aren’t I? I should be pulling my weight around here. I’m able bodied and I think it’ll be easier for me to get a job in town.”

Tommy shook his head again. His throat moved.

“Risky,” he managed to say.

She opened her mouth to disagree with him, but decided to drop the subject. Although the two of them weren’t exactly walking around town holding hands and kissing, it was clear by now she was at least dating Tommy. In a small town as the one they lived in everyone had to know by now. There would be other people like Jack. People who would question, try to cause friction and heartache because they would feel it wasn’t right.

“Well, I need to do something,” she said.

His hands wrapped around her, and he pulled her back to him. Leaning down, his cheek rested against hers.

“Love me,” he said softly and with much strain to his voice into her ear.

She playfully hit his shoulder. “I do, dumbass.” She leaned back so he could see her expression. “Why else do you think I stopped you from killing Jack? I don’t want to lose you.” A frown crossed her face as she thought about it. “He might still go to the cops and try to get you arrested for assault.”

Pressing her right index finger to her lips she thought.

Tommy brushed her growing hair back, seeming to try and soothe her. He clearly wasn’t worried.

“And, if not there’s no way in hell he’s not going to try and squeeze as much money out of you as possible. Might try to force you to sell some property for his medical bills.”

They might need her parents' help. She gulped at the thought. She didn’t want to call out of the blue and ask for favors. They loved at a distance and that was good for them. But, Jack did say her parents were looking for her. Which was rather odd and unexpected. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She let out a sigh, her eyes fixed onto him again. “I’m going to need to call my parents.”

Her words clearly surprised him. His eyebrows raised then narrowed into a frown. He didn’t like that idea.

“They’re not… they can’t take me away, Tommy,” she said firmly. “I’m an adult. And, I know them well enough to know they wouldn’t. But, if Jack wants to come after you.” She paused and pressed her hand to her chest. “After us, then my parents can help. They have money and resources.”

His fingers felt so nice against her skin as he brushed her cheek. She could see him thinking about it.

She wanted to add more reasons. Tell him that she wanted her parents to meet him. To get to know him since she’d decided to attach her life to his. Marry him. So, he should get to know her family, and they them. Then they could have Christmas together. Thanksgiving. Random holidays or birthday celebrations. And that would be ideal. She did want them to meet him. Wanted them to see how she found a man who loved her with every fiber of his being.

But, there would be questions that couldn’t be answered. How did they meet? What does he do? Questions about his family. Her mother would extremely disapprove based on looks alone. Not to mention his employment was currently non-existent.

Her father was more of a wild card. His approval or disapproval shifted like the wind. There were times she thought he’d be proud of her, only to see disappointment. And other times that she thought he’d be disappointed, only for him to show pride. Like when she broke the cheerleader’s leg. He grounded her and chastised her, but there was pride in his voice and eyes. And the grounding was hardly a punishment.

“And,” she slowly added. “They might be looking for me.”

His pupils dilated in surprise. She let out a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “Jack knew my last name. Said there was a poster of me at a post office. So, I think it’d be best if I contacted them. I know them well enough to know they’ll stop their search once I talk to them.”

After a moment, Tommy nodded his head. He bent down and kissed her lips.

Scooby let out a bark and Tommy broke away to pick up the ball. And apparently, that was that.

With a content sigh, Lizzy sat back on the steps and watched the two for a while. Her parents wouldn’t be a problem. As long as she kept in touch with them now and again. This was a good thing. If they were searching for her then it was possible that they would hire someone to find her. Someone who would be able to snoop deep enough to find her and the Hewitts and figure them out.

That wasn’t good. She had to protect them from that. And, it would be nice, hearing them again. She couldn’t tell them much, but, she could tell them about her puppy.

A little smile crossed her face as she watched the pup run for the ball. What were the chances? That the one puppy she saw, the only one she truly wanted immediately, was the one that had little problem with Tommy. It seemed to forget he was a big, tall, scary man as it played tug of war with him.

The puppy sauntered toward Tommy, before dropping the ball a few feet away and then crawling out onto the grass and laying down to rest.

Tommy let out a chuckle and walked back to her.

“Tommy?” she asked. One last request.

He let out a grunt and groan, but slowly lowered himself to sit with her on the steps. He gave her a somber look, almost as if he were annoyed.

She giggled. Grabbing one of his hands, she brought it up to kiss his knuckles before flashing him a shy smile and batting her eyes.

“Do you think-” She paused. “I don’t.” She let out a sigh, not wanting to hurt him with her request.

Tommy’s big hand brushed her face and she looked up at him.

“I know you wanted to name him Scooby, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while and-”

He frowned, looking quite confused. He had every right to be. She hadn’t given him any indications she didn’t like the name for the dog. But she didn’t. As much as she loved her brother, she didn’t want to feel like he haunted her daily life. Or that Thomas needed to feel like he had to honor his memory.

“I wanna name him Chance,” she said.

Tommy cocked his head to one side and gave her a nod.

“Why?”

“I think it fits. For us that is,” she stated. “Chance. It was pure chance that I came down here to Texas. That we decided to drive down the road we did. Pure chance that you found our car.” She didn’t notice the slight tension that went through him. “Chance your mother decided to let me stay for dinner. You gave me a chance to live. I gave you a chance to show me that I mean something to you. I’m giving your family another chance to make amends.” She smiled shyly at him. “And I took a chance on the pup. He was the runt. He could have died on us. Chance.”

“I like the name Scooby,” she quickly added. “But the dog is ours. And I want its name to mean something for me and for you. It’s our first dog. Next one we can name Scooby,” she quickly added.

Tommy stood up and left her side. She watched him walk over to the pup. He scooped up the tired creature and returned to her. He gave it a look and then her a look. The creature cowered and tucked its tail between its leg as it tried to lick the air. Despite that, the little tail wagged.

He set the dog on the ground and it immediately rolled over to show its belly. He huffed and scratched it.

“Ch…Ch… Chance,” he forced.

Lizzy immediately jumped to her feet and hugged him. Then, she lifted the pup up.

“Hear that, boy?” she asked. It desperately licked her face, making her laugh. “Daddy’s agreed to name you Chance.”

She beamed, looking up at Tommy.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

His face had paled slightly and he almost looked shell-shocked. His fingers moved back on her face. He rubbed her skin once again making sure she was real and there.

“My,” he managed to say. “Chance.” His hand moved down to her belly. “Family.”

Oh, she mouthed. His chance to have a family. His chance to be truly happy. Her eyes misted.

She had to set the puppy down to properly hug him.

“Our chance,” she whispered into his chest.

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

Text

A Simple Act of Kindness - 25 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,734

Chapter 25 -Jack

Lizzy was practically jumping up and down on her seat, disguising her excitement with the bumpy road under her. Four weeks had flown by without any major incident. It was hard to believe that life with the Hewitts could actually be as peaceful as it had been.

Peaceful. What a strange word to associate with them.

Hoyt had started joining them for dinner again. Not much she could do about that. Although, he didn’t look at her, which she was completely fine with. He almost acted as if she weren’t there, directing his conversation at Monty, Luda Mae and sometimes Tommy. Usually, whatever he had to say to Tommy was in not so subtle code about what he expected Tommy to do that day.

Lizzy pushed the thought away from her mind of what that could possibly be. She knew. She just wasn’t prepared to fully admit it. Luda Mae had recently gotten excited over a fresh batch of meat she’d “purchased”.

Lizzy let out a loud sigh. She still held out hope that Tommy would soften his stance on his insistence that she eat meat. She would gladly go full vegetarian for him to prove she just didn’t want meat in general. But, it seemed to be the one thing he refused to find a compromise.

Despite Hoyt’s adamant protests during breakfast, Luda Mae had decided to open the store later than normal. Elizabeth was supposed to work, but she had asked for the day off. To explore the house and grounds with the puppy and Tommy by her side. She couldn't wait. Family bonding time.

She didn’t mind working at the store. It gave her something else to do than to sit around all day. It was nice, getting out of the house. And, as much as she loved Thomas, it was nice to get a break from him too sometimes. There were days when he wouldn’t join her. Not that she was left alone at the store. Henrietta was always with her for those days. She didn’t mind that either.

The two women had gotten just a little bit closer. Henrietta was clearly enamored with the idea of becoming a sorta-aunt to Tommy’s and Lizzy’s eventual children. And, Lizzy could see that she would make a fun “aunt”. She even officially gave Henrietta permission to call her Lizzy.

A large smile crept across Lizzy’s face as they stopped in front of Mr. Denver’s home. Soon, she’d have her puppy. And soon she’d be back home to play with it.

Mr. Denver waved at them as they parked the truck. Lizzy waited for Tommy to open the door for her and smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, planting a kiss on his leather mask.

His eyes softened as a smile crossed his lip. Tommy leaned in to grab her hat from the seat.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Denver said, tipping his hat toward her.

Lizzy nodded her head. Tommy’s heavy hand pressed against her head as he put her hat on for her.

“Ms. Luda Mae,” Mr. Denver said. “Do you think you and Tommy can help me out for a moment in the back?” he asked.

Lizzy frowned. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t unusual for the old farmer to ask for help from Tommy. But, there was something in the tone of his voice that rubbed her wrong.

Tommy gave Lizzy a worried glance, noticing her change.

“I could go with you and we can pick up the puppy together once you’re done,” she said, trying to ease her worry.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Mr. Denver said. “I only need Thomas for a couple minutes.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at her in concern. He nodded his head.

Are you okay?

“Yeah,” she said. Perhaps it was just her imagination. Yeah. She was just adding unnecessary tension to what was going to be a glorious day.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Denver asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, no problem. I’ll get our dog and meet you in the truck.” She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss Thomas again. “See you soon, baby,” she said softly.

He reached out and stroked her cheek then nodded his head.

Despite her words, her heartbeat quickened with each step she took away from Tommy. Clenching her fists, she made her way into the barn. She moved quickly toward the back where the puppies were. All she had to do was grab Scooby and go back to the truck. It was easy. Simple.

She winced slightly at the name. He was so excited and happy at his choice of name for the dog. He clearly thought she would be happy about it too. She didn’t have it in her to tell him she didn’t like it.

A large smile crossed her face the moment she spotted her puppy. But, whatever. She could live with that name. It wasn’t a big deal at the end of the day.

“Hey, boy,” she called out, patting her knees. The puppy yipped and rushed over to her as did some of its siblings. Despite being a runt, he was starting to resemble the rest of his siblings in height and weight. She picked him up and giggled as he bathed her face with his long tongue.

“Ready to go home?” she asked. “Not like you have a choice.”

“But you do, Miss. Elizabeth Blair.” Jack’s voice froze her. Blair?

“What did you say?” she asked, slowly turning to look at the man. There was no way she heard him correctly. She’d given the doctor a fake last name. Unless, for some reason, Luda Mae or one of the other Hewitts let it slip. Although, she wasn’t sure even they knew her real last name.

Jack gave her a somber look. His eyes darted around as if searching from Tommy.

“Look, I know who you are,” he said, lowering his voice. “And I know you’re in trouble. We always thought there was something off about the Hewitts.”

She gulped. They were right of course, but they really didn’t know the full scope of the situation.

Jack held out his hand to her. “Grandpa’s distracting them. I can get you to safety. Don’t worry. Not going to take you to Sheriff Hoyt. We know he’s a little too familiar with the Hewitts. Gramps has some friends in law enforcement next town over. You’ll be safe there. I’m sure you’ve been through so much. But don’t you worry now, little Miss. Blair. We’ve been itching for an excuse to go after the Hewitts. Come on. I got ya now. You’re safe.”

Safe.

Her heart felt as if it stopped beating as she unknowingly held her breath. This was her chance. Her opportunity to escape. To be free.

She took a step toward Jack. Toward his hand that could take her away from what was once her nightmare.

But..

It wasn’t a nightmare anymore.

A frown crossed her face as she took a step back, squeezing Scooby a little too tightly.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“Laci,” Jack said as he walked to her. “She saw a missing poster with your picture on it at the post office a week ago. Look, don’t got much time. You don’t gotta be afraid of that freak. I’m here now.”

He pulled the puppy from her arms and set it on the ground.

“Did you talk to my parents?” she asked as his hand gripped her elbow. She automatically started to follow him.

“Naw,” he said, shaking his head. “Laci called me. Was gonna call the number on the poster, but I told her to wait. I knew you were coming to pick up the dog and wanted to rescue you. Just in case, ya know? Police sometimes rush into things without thinking. Didn’t want ya getting hurt in whatever mess happens.” He waved his hands in a dismissive manner.

The police would rush in and ruin the Hewitts. Destroy them. Destroy Hoyt. Her heart hardened and she felt a little bit happy about that. Yes, he deserved it after what he did to her. Justice. Revenge. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Which meant he’d just go down with bullets in his chest.

She gritted her teeth. They all deserved it. They were cannibals and murderers and rapists. Their victims deserved justice. But Tommy.

Her chest shuddered as she tried to breath normally.

They would hurt him as well, maybe even do worse to him because he was different. Scary. Her brain conjured up a horrible image of a set of officers surrounding Tommy and beating him with their sticks while the townsfolk watched. And he would probably let them, because she betrayed him. She couldn’t let that happen.

The door slammed shut behind her, as Jack pulled her out of the room with the puppies. Scooby’s little howl of sadness snapped her out of her slightly dazed state.

“I’m fine,” she said, jerking her arm free and taking a few steps back.

Jack spun on his heels. “It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, reaching out toward her. “I’ll get ya to safety. You don’t have to worry or be afraid anymore. I know he’s hurt ya, darlin’, but you’re safe with me.”

His words would have had her throwing herself at him before. In the early days. When she was afraid and a victim. But, she was safe with Tommy. She wasn’t afraid of him. Or worried. She was in love. Perhaps the Hewitts were rubbing off on her, leaving her evil and selfish for not taking the perfect opportunity and saving those who would become eventual victims. Sacrifice her happiness for the greater good. A happiness she wanted but never thought she’d get because it was hard for her to open up to people and let them in.

But, she let Tommy in. He burrowed his way into her heart with his fierce love and protection. She was everything to him. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to find a man like him. She didn’t want to lose that. She couldn’t.

“I’m not afraid,” she said. His hands grabbed her arms again. “I’m not in danger!” She struggled against his grip.

Jack stared at her for a moment. His brow furrowed with confusion. “You can’t seriously be dating that freak,” he said. His fingers painfully clamped on her arm just above her elbow as he pulled her to his chest.

“We’re not just dating,” she said. She pushed her hands against his chest, but the bastard hardly budged. “We’re engaged, you asshole. Let me go.”

Without warning, he released her. She yelped as she lost her balance and dropped to the ground hard. He looked down at her, head tilted to one side. His eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Are you retarded or something?” he asked.

“Fuck off,” she snapped, glaring up at him. “And how fucking dare you insinuate that I’m only with Tommy because I’m scared or some sort of prisoner or mentally ill. God, that’s why I can’t stand men like you sometimes. So obsessed with looks that you don’t see that personality counts for something. You don’t get it. You see our looks don’t match so you think there has to be something wrong. He might not be handsome like you, but he’s got a good heart. One that loves and cares for those close to him. I’ve never had anyone care for me the way he does, asshole. You’ll never get it because you can never offer what he does.”

Jack’s mouth parted slightly and he let out a huff, shaking his head. “So explain why there is a missing poster of you?”

She stood up and wiped her hands on her pants, keeping a careful eye on him.

“I’m honestly surprised there is, considering I’m an adult who can do whatever the fuck I want. I don’t know,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe my parents actually give more of a fuck about me than I realized. Not that I need to explain my relationship with them to you.”

She needed to get out of there. She had to get the puppy and go. She’d deal with the information that her parents were actually looking for her later.

She kept her eye on him while opening the door to the room with the pups.

Scooby yipped happily and quickly escaped out the door.

“Scooby, wait,” she commanded. It didn’t listen to her, but she managed to pick it up before it got to far.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

She froze. “What? No! Are you fucking serious?” she yelled. “Wow. Way to keep showing how much of an asshole you are. Not that I’m really surprised. I pegged you for one the moment I saw you. Too shallow to think that I could actually love him and be with him just because and not for some stupid reason like being pregnant.”

She pushed away the fact that that was Tommy’s original intent. What he thought he needed to do to make her stay. How interesting that all she needed was a little bit of love, a little bit of protection, and a little bit of being wanted.

Jack looked confused.

“Well, it can’t be money,” he said, shaking his head, clearly ignoring the fact that she said she loved Tommy. Her face must have shown her confusion. “You do know they ain’t got much money, right?”

“What of it?” she snapped, pretending like she did know.

His lips peeled back and he shook his head. “You didn’t know. Let me guess, he’s been showering you with expensive gifts pretending he could afford them. Oh, maybe making promises like buying an expensive house? Giving you all the worldly thing your heart desires. Well, sorry to pop that bubble, princess. The Hewitts are broke as shit.”

She gulped and looked away. “I don’t need money,” she muttered.

She honestly hadn’t thought of that. Thought of their financial situation because it really wasn’t important considering the role she was originally meant to have.

She looked down at the puppy. Most likely an added, unnecessary financial burden because Tommy wanted to make her happy.

She bit her cheek. If only he told her, or any of them could have secretly let her know to save Tommy’s dignity. She was fine without a dog. It was a happy, welcome surprise of course, but not if it caused more mental stress for the man she loved.

Why didn’t you tell me?

She knew why. Because he was still worried, still afraid that he’d lose her love. He wanted to make her happy, keep her happy. He didn’t want her to worry about finances. Wasn’t like he would actually let her go out and get a real job to help support them.

“You don’t need money,” he repeated then nodded his head. “That actually makes sense. I mean, I had wondered how they were able to afford paying you, considering Luda Mae’s been borrowing money from my gramps quite consistently the last couple years. I know Tommy-boy tends to take up odd jobs here and there, but he hasn’t had a real one since the meat factory closed down two years ago. And I know that their towing business went under after Monty lost his legs. It probably wouldn’t have if your fiancé knew how to drive.”

He laughed. She willed her body to walk away, but she remained frozen.

“But, now it makes sense. They don’t need to actually pay you. You’re free labor. Oh, Lizzy.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” she snapped.

He ignored her as he continued. “And here I thought you were a smart girl. Educated. You’re a little fucked in the head, aren’t ya?” he asked, tapping his head.

“Yeah,” she spat, letting her anger out with her voice. She didn’t owe him any explanations. “If that’s what you want to believe. I’m-”

Jack was quick, not giving her a moment to think. His hand moved to the back of her head as his lips smashed against hers. Her body froze and her eyes widened. She tried to move away, but he held her close.

Scooby wiggled in her arms, managing to gain his freedom.

His lips were hard, his grip forceful, almost painful. She felt his tongue tease her as if he thought she would open her mouth willingly for him.

Jack’s lips tore away from hers as his head snapped to one side. The sound of a hand hitting flesh echoed around them. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths as she held her hand high up in the air. Her palm pulsed with pain. She shoved Jack away from her with her free hand while he was still stunned.

“How dare-”

“Oh, hey, Tommy,” Jack said, interrupting her as he rubbed his cheek. He looked past her. His mouth quirked into a knowing smile.

Elizabeth stiffened. Slowly, she turned. Scooby whined as he circled Tommy’s legs and wagged his tail in shy happiness. Tommy ignored the pup. He stared at Jack before slowly turning his gaze to her.

“Tommy, I-”

It took all of her strength, not to retreat when he took a step toward them.

“Yeah,” Jack whispered behind her. “You don’t look afraid or like you’re in danger at all.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Old hurt and worry gripped her entire being. How long had he been there. He had to have seen the two arguing, right? No, no he didn’t. He hadn’t been there long. Just, long enough for Jack to notice and cause some friction between them. Was Jack testing Tommy now? Confirming his suspicions.

She internally begged Tommy not to give Jack what he wanted. Not to show a side of himself she never wanted to see.

He did see her smack Jack so that had to have counted for something.

Tommy stopped in front of her and grabbed her right hand. She winced and hissed. Her nerves still pulsed with pain from the slap. He was gentle though, when he touched her. He twisted her hand to look at her palm. Then he raised his gaze and nodded his head.

Are you okay?

“I’m fine, Tommy,” she said. “Just, asshole over here-”

“Tell me, big guy. What’s your secret?” Jack asked, interrupting her. He rubbed his cheek and chuckled. “Oh shit! I know why she’s with ya. It’s your cock, ain’t it? You got one of those big ones whores-”

Tommy’s fist connected with Jack’s face. Lizzy let out a scream of surprise.

Jack dropped onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. Thomas was on him in an instant. Metal clattered on the ground next to him as he dropped whatever was in his left hand. He straddled Jack and started punching the man. Throwing his strength into each hit.

“Tommy, stop!” Lizzy cried out. She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm to stop him from causing more harm. It wasn’t that she was trying to save Jack. She just didn’t want Tommy to get in trouble by killing him.

Tommy looked up at her for a brief moment. His eyes full of rage and anger. The kind of eyes he’d never shown her before. He shoved her back hard. She yelped and tripped, landing on the ground with a thud.

Tommy turned his attention back to Jack. He let out a cry of anger. Jack tried to raise his hand to protect his face, but he couldn't. Thomas twisted one hand into Jack's shirt and partly lifted him up. With his other, he reached down and grabbed what he’d dropped.

She stopped breathing.

“Tommy, no,” she whispered, but she couldn’t move. She wanted to, but the rage he was in. It scared her. She wasn’t sure if he would turn on her on accident. He’d never shoved her like that before.

Thomas raised a hammer over his head. Lizzy covered her mouth in horror. She was about to witness a murder. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Wood exploded nearby as a gunshot rang out.

Thomas froze. He jerked his head in the direction of the gunshot, One hand still raised over his head while the other gripped a nearly unconscious Jack.

Mr. Denver had a shotgun in his hands. He aimed it at Tommy.

“Get off my grandson,” he ordered.

Tommy hesitated.

“Tommy, please,” Elizabeth whimpered. He gave her a look. His eyes were still hard and full of uncontrollable anger. To her relief, he dropped the hammer and shoved Jack back. But, he didn’t raise his hands in surrender as he stood up. Instead, he glared at the old farmer. It almost looked as if he was contemplating on attacking him as well.

“Mr. Denver-” Elizabeth started to say, hoping to calm the situation down. She rose to her feet as well.

Jack moaned. At least the bastard was still alive.

“I don’t care to hear it,” Mr. Denver’s said, cutting her off. He didn’t lower his gun, keeping it trained on Tommy. “Are you okay, Miss. Blair?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head. “I… I smacked Jack and he got a little violent. Tommy only tried to defend me.” It was a lie, but Jack was in no condition to disagree. Hopefully, the old farmer would believe her and give them time to escape.

Mr. Denver looked at his grandson then at her. He have her a small nod as if that made sense.

“Tommy,” he said. He lowered his gun slightly, but not enough to not be a threat. “You ain’t welcomed around here no more. Take your pup and go. Luda Mae.” He turned to address the older woman who was behind him. “I’m taking my business elsewhere. I expect you to pay me what I’m owed by Monday. Now, the three of you git out of here.”

Elizabeth tugged on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes remained focus on Mr. Denver for far too long. Calculating? Planning on trying to hurt him as well?

“Tommy, please,” she whispered. Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned her head to look at her. He blinked slowly, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see the care he held for her just minutes ago.

Her heart pounded in her chest. It was going to be okay. She had to believe that. Had to take the chance. They just needed to get out of there and everything would be alright again.

She scooped up her puppy and sped past Mr. Denver.

“Mr. Denver,” she said, stopping just past him. The old man’s eyes stayed focus on Tommy. “Thank you. For the puppy. And, for worrying. But I’m fine.”

Those last words made him raise his eyebrows and turn his head to look at her.

“Have a good day’, Miss. Blair,” he said, with a nod of his head. He understood her message.

Yes, hopefully the day would improve.

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

Text

A Simple Act of Kindness - 24 /

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

With this being a chapter heavily inspired by a song I figured I'd link the song as well.

Word Count: 4,294

Chapter 24 - "Where Do I Begin..."

There was a loud shriek followed by a crash. Thomas dropped the trash bags he was carrying and rushed back into their fixer-upper. It didn’t take him long to reach the kitchen where he’d last seen Lizzy. His heart pounded hard against his rib cage. He had to rescue her from…

Nothing?

She stood by the end of the counter. There was debris around her. A broken cabinet above her head. But, she didn’t seem to notice as she hopped up and down, messing with a large device in front of her.

Thomas frowned, taking a cautious step forward. She looked uninjured. Her body language told him she was happy, excited even. That scream was from excitement? He heard a little high pitch ring then static with voices that faded in and out.

Music. He could hear some music through the static. She took her hand off the dial and messed with the antennas of the radio. The cabinet she must have found it in creaked, then slid. Thomas quickly rushed forward and grabbed it before the entire piece came crashing down on her.

She looked up at him, her face a little red from embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said. “I got really excited.”

She moved the radio further to one side, allowing him room to grab the falling cabinet and yank it the rest of the way off the wall. The static and high pitch ringing filled the room as she played with the dial and antennas.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, finding a station that sounded the strongest. He set the broken cabinet on the floor. She messed with the antennas a little bit more till the static was all but gone. Turning, she smiled at him.

“Music, Tommy!” she exclaimed. She grabbed his hand and twirled to his side before twirling away. “I haven’t listened to music in a while.”

His heart leapt in his chest. No one had ever grabbed his hand and twirled into him like that.

It was a bit surprising that the old radio still functioned. So many things the Hewitts owned were broken or breaking down. Except his trusty chainsaw. That he kept in the best condition he possibly could.

“Our future home is looking better. We got a functioning radio. And we get Scooby tomorrow,” she said with glee.

He was excited too. Scooby. That’s the name he wanted for the pup. She didn’t seem too keen on the idea, when he held up the stuffed animal. Her nose had scrunched up and her mouth had turned with clear disapproval. But, if she had another name in mind she didn’t offer it up. And, she’d even started using the name when she referred to the pup.

A puppy. Their future home. And some day, kids.

Thomas’s eyes gazed past her through the kitchen window into the backyard. He had already made plans in his head about what he was going to do back there. Fix the fence so they could let the dog out whenever and not worry about it disappearing in the vast forest around them. And then a playground. He was going to build a playground back there for their kids.

“Tommy?” Lizzy said, interrupting his daydreaming. Her hand reached out to him.

“Will you dance with me?”

Dance? His whole body stiffened at the request. He automatically shook his head. There was a part of him that wanted to say yes, but he was scared. He’d never danced with anyone before.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Storming over to him, she grabbed his hands and moved them around her waist. He found himself holding his breath as she ran her hands up his chest then wrapped them around his neck.

“Just sway then,” she said as she started rocking. The current song ended and a new one started. The music swelled, making him want to twirl her away then back to him. But he resisted his urges.

“Where do I begin.”

He gulped but followed her movement, dragging his feet more than he lifted them. He didn’t want to step on her. And, knowing him, he probably would on accident. With a content sigh, she rested her head against his chest and relaxed.

“To tell the story of how great a love can be.”

It was still hard to believe. He’d won. At life! How the fuck did that happen?

“The sweet love story that is older than the sea.”

He was a loser. An outcast. The world’s reject. Thrown out into the garbage as a baby. Yet, was it luck or fate that led Luda Mae to him that fateful night? Luck or fate that brought Elizabeth to him.

“The simple truth about the love she brings to me.”

He lifted one of his hands to go through her growing hair. His hand looked so big by her head. A murderer’s hand. The kind that beat people, killed people, and butchered them for their meat. It could have been her. It would have been her.

“Where do I start.”

It was strange how one simple event led down to this. Had he not gotten fired from his work, and the factory shut down, he wouldn’t have murdered his boss. Had he not murdered his boss, Uncle Charlie wouldn’t have killed the sheriff and taken on the man’s identity. They wouldn’t have resorted to cannibalism to survive. And he never would have brought Elizabeth home after her companion crashed their car swerving to miss him…

“With her first hello.”

Lizzy. The woman who was supposed to be dinner had become his wife. And the future mother of his children. Their children. Children that he prayed would look like her.

“She gave new meaning to this empty world of mine.”

The song playing on the radio caught his attention. Lizzy hummed along to it. Her tone was so pleasing to his ears. Low, steady, musical. She acted a little differently when they were here, in their possible new home. Relaxed. Content. Just a little bit happier. At home with his ma her body still had some tension in it. Even though now things were going much better for her.

“There'd never be another love, another time.”

Looking up, he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to give her everything she wanted. Not just needed. Wanted. It hurt, knowing that some things he’d never be able to give her. He had no idea when they’d be able to move in, if ever. Not that he could tell her that yet. They’d done almost everything they could, taking out all the trash, cleaning the debris, throwing out every single piece of furniture. There wasn’t much left to do now, other than dream about what the home would eventually look like. Unfortunately, it was money that was needed to make the place truly livable.

“She came into my life and made the living fine.”

The store was keeping the family afloat but barely. There was no money to spend on fixing up the place. At least, not yet. The little town they lived in was dying in many ways. She didn’t know that. She didn’t know that the family was just barely hanging on to their properties. She didn’t know that his insistence that she eat whatever was put before her was because it was what they could afford. She came from a rich family. She had no idea what it was really like to barely get by. And he didn’t want her to know what it was like.

“She fills my heart.”

It was cheaper and easier killing people for meat over paying money for some animal. Using animal meat was almost a luxury at this point. Adding the puppy onto the list of mouths to feed was not an easy decision to make. Ironically, a baby they could handle, but a dog was an unnecessary burden to add. Yet, it was something she was never given by her rich family. Something she desired, that he’d picked up on from the longing he heard in her voice. Something he could get her.

“She fills my heart with very special things.”

He was determined to get her a puppy. One that would become her companion and protector when he wasn’t around. And he knew exactly who to turn to. Mr. Denver’s dogs were well known in the area. Fiercely loyal and protective. And, although they were not the same breed, Mr. Denver’s dogs were as close to the Scooby Doo doll that Thomas could find in the area.

“With angels' songs, with wild imaginings.”

He just didn’t expect to be able to get one so soon. Next set of pups, he had figured… Well, more like hoped. They didn’t have the money to buy one yet. Those dogs were damn expensive. Except… “An apology” his mother had told him. It was on one of the days they had left Lizzy at home, alone. She had driven them up to Mr. Denver’s farm and handed the man money for one of his pups. Thomas had a feeling she hadn’t told Lizzy how big her role was in getting the gift. That puppy…

“She fills my soul with so much love.”

Most animals never liked him. He was a rather large man, intimidating, scary. And he had that aura about him. But, he was willing to deal with whatever temperament the animal had that she chose. As long as it loved her, he would accept it. But, out of all the puppies she could have chosen, she chose the runt. She chose the one that seemed to be able to stand him. The one that licked him.

“That anywhere I go I'm never lonely.”

Thomas couldn’t help himself as he stared at her. Just… it seemed as if he was living in a dream sometimes. A dream he didn’t want to wake up from, but knew that one day reality would find him. It was hard to trust, to believe, that when they were out there in the world she would still be the same. That she’d still look at him as an equal and not be embarrassed that he was by her side.

“With her around, who could be lonely.”

He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt seeing her in that pen with all those puppies and “Handsome” Jack nearby. They looked like such a perfect couple together. Not that Thomas would let her go to be with someone better suited for her beauty. He was never going to let her go. And… he didn’t have to. She called him “love” and reached for him. Thomas. The murdering, cannibal, rapist. What he did to her was inexcusable, but somehow she still loved him. She wanted him.

“I reach for her hand, it's always there.”

He didn’t regret his actions. He probably should. Probably should feel sick that he kidnapped her. That he raped her. No one forced him. He knew better. But, he wanted her. He needed her. He figured she’d never truly fall in love with him. Hoped that having his children would maybe get her to care a little bit for him.

“How long does it last.”

But, she loved him. Without children as an excuse that bound them forever together. It was his protective nature towards her, she had admitted recently. She’d never had anyone look out for her the way he did. And, he saw her. He listened. He paid attention. And apparently, that’s all he needed to do.

“Can love be measured by the hours in a day.”

He was determined to spend the rest of his life making her as happy as possible. If anyone tried to harm or ended up harming her, he would kill them. Didn’t matter who they were anymore. Some random stranger. “Handsome” Jack. Hoyt. His mother.

“I have no answers now but this much I can say.”

If Lizzy’s fate wasn’t sealed before, it was sealed now. Signed. Sealed. Chained. Cemented into the ground and not even the devil himself could break her free. She called him “love” and kissed him, in front of people. People, people!

“I know I'll need her 'til the stars all burn away.”

His wife. He had to make it official. Official, official. Reverend, legal papers, family as witnesses. Get her a beautiful wedding dress. A new one. One that she would pick out. Redo their wedding night. Make it special. Get rid of the old, painful memory for her. And the desperate memory for him. He couldn’t help but squeeze her ass. She tilted her head up and smiled at him.

“And she'll be there.”

“Hello, love,” she said.

He struggled, moving his tongue and throat to get out a single important word.

“W-w-wife,” he managed to push out.

Her smile widened and she nodded her head. “Wife,” she confirmed. Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed his lips. She didn’t linger, much to his disappointment.

With a sigh, she moved away from him and turned on the faucet.

He watched her leave. Her ass, perfectly accentuated by her own clothing. He had to admit, there were few pieces of clothing that they gave her that were actually her size. He never noticed how much nicer she looked with clothes that properly fit her.

Little drops of water hit him, causing him to gaze away from her ass. She gave him a mischievous smile as she flicked more water at him.

“Mind out of the gutter,” she said in a teasing manner. “Maybe after dinner.”

He could tell from the tone of her voice and the glint in her eye that “maybe” meant“diffidently”. But, after dinner felt like an eternity.

The floorboards creaked from his weight as he moved closer to her. He stopped behind her and brushed her arms with his fingers. She didn’t look at him, but hummed in approval of his touch. Taking his hands, she brought them under the cool stream. Slowly, she massaged each finger, getting rid of the dirt and grime that had accumulated from the day.

When she seemed satisfied, she let him go and turned off the water. Shaking her hands in the air, she straightened her back. He didn’t move, pinning her between him and the counter.

She tilted her head up to look at him again.

“What?” she asked. He moved his hand around her face. His fingers lightly massaged the skin along her jaw. He still needed reassurance he wasn’t in some dream.

Raising her hand up, she flicked more water in his face.

“I’m very real, Tommy,” she said as if she read his mind.

He leaned in and kissed her lips, applying little pressure. She hummed and smiled into his kiss. Moving her head again, she took his hands and wrapped them around her body. With a content sigh, she leaned back and nuzzled against his chest. The two of them stared out of the clean window into the backyard.

Was she real though?

Unfortunately for her, he was always going to need reassurance. Always going to need to verify that she wanted him. That she was real and not some figment of his imagination.

But, that was the fun part, wasn’t it?

Blood rushed down to his cock and his breathing deepened.

He moved his fingers and pulled her shirt up to stroke her warm flat belly. Her burn scars a seeming imperfection to her, but to him it made her sexier. She still stiffened a little at his touch. Tilting her head up, she gave him a puzzled look.

“Guess we should be heading back, huh? I have a feeling we’re going to be late for dinner,” she said. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. She rubbed her ass against him, undoubtedly feeling his hardening flesh that called for her.

His little tease. He let out a growl and nipped her neck. Her giggle turned into a moan. His fingers dug into her skin and she leaned back, raising her arm up to touch his face.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her soft hands on his skin. He kissed her and she more than happily returned his kiss, opening her mouth for a deeper one. His tongue met hers, while the two swayed against each other.

Her fingers locked with his and she moved his hands up, under her shirt, stopping at her breasts. She broke their kiss and bit her lower lip to moan again. His fingers played with her nipples, twisting them and pulling them.

How did this happen? He wondered, kissing her lips again.

Their lips parted with a loud smack. He moved down to kiss her cheek and then jaw, making his way to her neck.

She let out a half laugh, half moan, tilting her head to one side so he had more access to her sensitive skin. He pressed his mouth against her neck and sucked, tightening his grip on her body, as if she would try to escape him. His teeth scraped her skin in a teasing manner and she gasped. Her whole body trembled.

“Oh,” she groaned. Her breathing grew deeper. One of her hands joined his as she made him massage her breasts harder.

If only she could read his mind. Or, if he could talk. The dirty things he’d whisper in her ear.

I want to pin you against every wall in this house and claim you.

He abandoned one breast. Sliding his hand down her warm skin, he stopped for a brief moment to stroke her burn scars again before traversing further down. She wiggled slightly as if he tickled her. His fingers found the button of her jeans and he unhooked it. Raising his head up, his eyes focused on hers as he slipped his hand into her underwear.

I can’t get enough of you.

Her mouth dropped and she took in deep, steady breaths. Trust. There was trust in her eyes. Trust in whatever he planned on doing. He stroked her vulva before slipping his fingers between her folds. Starting with his pinky, he made each finger brush over her clit, getting a jerk of her hips and a moan.

Tell me, Lizzy. Tell me you belong to me. You need me.

He gently stroked her warm, slick insides as his mouth went back to her neck.

Wet already, Lizzy? Her body spoke to him. Confirmed his statement. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oh, Tommy,” she moaned, grinding her hips onto his fingers. His thumb teased her clit, while he moved his fingers to explore her again.

That’s my girl. My wife. Use that beautiful mouth of yours to say my name.

He moved gently, dipping one finger into her slick hole, his teeth playfully bit her jaw. He loved the way her body quivered for him.

You like it when I finger you, don’t you, you dirty girl.

Her grip on his arm disappeared. She moved her hand down and unbuckled his belt. He moaned as her hand desperately moved through his clothing till she found his hardened cock. She started to stroke him while her hips moved harder against his hand.

You make me so hard, I can barely control myself around you.

He kept a light pressure on her clit, not enough to get her to come. While his finger in her stroked her silky smooth insides. His other hand mauled her breast. Her moans started to sound annoyed, desperate. Her hips moved to force his thumb to press harder on her clit.

She was having a hard time stroking him as she chased her impending orgasm. Kissing her cheek, he moved his thumb away and leaned back. She tilted her head up. Her eyes held such desperation. He grinded his hips, pressing his hard-on against her ass. She whimpered.

Beg for it. Beg for me. Beg me to let you come.

“Tommy?” Her eyes searched his face. “I want to come. Please.” She was clearly at that edge, so close. “Please, Tommy,” she begged. “Let me come on your fingers.”

He smiled. No. Not right now, love.

To her clear surprise and confusion, he withdrew his hand from her pants. Defiance flashed through her eyes and she moved her own hand to finish what he started. He shook his head. Grabbing her arm, he pinned it behind her back, then pushed her onto the flat surface of the count.

I need to be inside you, Lizzy. I need to feel you coming on my cock.

“I’m so close, Tommy,” she partly whimpered. He held her arm behind her back and used his other hand to pull down her pants. She let out a moan. Her free hand tensed against the kitchen counter.

He quickly unbuckled his hands and let them drop, freeing his aching cock that begged to be inside of her again.

I can hardly control myself when I’m around you.

He used his free hand to hold his cock and tease her slit, making her feel his hot, hard flesh. He ran his glans along her clit and she hummed, pushing her hips back.

Tell me you want my cock. Tell me you need me, Lizzy.

She turned her head to gaze back at him, her mouth partly open, yearning. “Fuck me, Tommy,” she begged. “Please. I need your cock in me. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He didn’t want to wait any longer either. He slammed into her. She cried out as he moaned. He had to pause for a moment, relishing in her warm, wet heat. He held onto her arm and moved his other hand up to hip. She clawed at the counter.

“Oh yes,” she moaned.

He moved slowly, but steadily at first. Making her feel every single bit of him. She had to understand how hard she made him. How much he desired her. And he had to make sure that she was still real. And that her real, wild body wanted him.

She pushed her ass back, meeting his thrusts. The sounds coming out of her mouth drove him wild. Low to high pitch moans and partially coherent words.

God, you sound so sexy right now.

“Fuck. Harder, baby,” she cried out desperately. “Oh, God. Fuck me harder.”

She didn’t have to ask. His mind was already demanding he give her everything he had. His big hands wrapped around her waist. Her face scrunched with desperate concentration. The sound of her arousal just made him more determined to fuck her harder.

“Right there. Right there,” she said in a high pitch voice. Desperate. Her hand went back to grab the bottom of his ass, holding him closer to her so he wouldn’t leave. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing her down to meet his thrusts.

“Oh, fuck,” she cried out.

That’s it, come on my cock, baby. I’m there too. Let’s come together.

She took in a deep breath, her whole body stiffened on him. She was coming. He let out a guttural moan as her insides spasmed and seemed to suck him in deeper.

Lizzy.

He felt his cock twitch as he released his sperm inside of her.

One day it would take, but then again, he was in no rush. Still, he rather enjoyed the feeling of cumming inside of his woman. His wife. All his.

He leaned against her, rubbing her belly, feeling her scarred skin. They both inhaled and exhaled deeply. Neither were interested in moving. It would have been nice, if he could stay in her warm, wet heat for a little bit longer. Alas, his deflating cock was pushed out of her pussy.

He pulled his pants back up while keeping an eye on her. She lay on the counter for a moment, arms laid out in front of her. With a groan of annoyance, she moved her hands down to pull her pants up. He watched her jeans cover her lovely ass again. With a content sigh, she placed her hands back on the counter and rested her head on them.

It’s time to go home.

He turned off the radio and unplugged the cord for good measure. It was a little surprising that there was electricity in the home. But, he wasn’t about to risk an electrical fire.

With a loud sigh, she straightened her back. Her hand went through her hair as she shook her head.

“Shit, Tommy,” she whispered. He couldn’t help but smile at her, at the dazed look she had on her face. She took a step forward and her legs buckled.

“How long does it last.” The song lyrics from just a little bit ago popped into his head.

He grabbed her before she could hit the ground. She let out a little giggle when he lifted her up to carry her bridal style. His brow furrowed with worry at how limp her body felt in his arms. He’d never seen her act like this before. But, she hummed in approval. Her face looked relaxed, content.

“Can love be measured by the hours in a day.”

“Wish we had a bed here, Tommy,” she mused. With a content sigh, she nestled against his chest. Her fingers unbuttoned a small part of his shirt, before slipping through. He felt her warm skin brush his chest hair. “We’re so naughty.”

“I have no answers now but this much I can say.”

He beamed at her. They were. She was right. It would have been nice to have a bed so he could cuddle with her immediately. But, holding her in his arms wasn’t so bad either.

“I know I'll need her 'til the stars all burn away.”

She wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed his jaw. “You fucked me good, Tommy,” she said. Her voice sounded so very sleepy. “Satisfied now?”

He was for now. He knew it was silly. After everything. To still have those doubts. But, he needed that from her. Needed that reassurance because the world had never given him anything before. He just needed to make sure that she was still there.

“And she'll be there.”

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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Behind every fanfic update, there is a writer being turned into THIS as they await your reactions

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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Object of Obsession - 46 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 1,641

Chapter 46 - A Long Time Ago

The air was cool, crisp, and smelled of autumn, her favorite time of year. She sat on a blanket, looking up at the stars. She was in a little meadow. One she'd discovered on one of her walks. Her secret hiding place to go to when she needed to get away from responsibilities, life... people.

Her hands rested on her lap, but she played with her fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest from nervousness. A twig snapped, causing her to spin her head around to look in the direction of the noise. He came out of the forest: tall, handsome, imposing, and silent. Just a shape in the dark night.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, but she sat there, waiting to see what he would do. His movements were determined and yet he was quiet as he strode over to her. He stopped beside her, looking down with cold eyes. Blood dripped down from the dagger he held. There was no escaping him. She was in a wide-open meadow. He was faster than her. Stronger. Although, she knew something he didn't. She could bring him to his knees with a couple of words.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she asked.

He stared down at her. And then he let out a huff and the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress his smile. Of course, he did. He was silent. He devoted his life to being the real thing people were scared of at night. The shape in the shadows. The boogeyman of the night. Evil incarnate. And yet to her, he was her lover.

"Sit," she commanded, patting the blanket.

He didn't hesitate, dropping down with a dramatic sigh. The moment he settled on the ground she quickly straddled him and giggled. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him. His big hands cupped her ass and she couldn't help but smile into his lips.

"How did I capture a killer's heart?" she asked as she leaned back. She ran her fingers through his hair.

He deliberately moved his eyes to travel along her body. She let out a hearty laugh and shook her head before playfully punching his shoulder.

"If it was really that superficial you wouldn't let me know you were around," she said. She leaned in closer. "You would have killed me a long time ago."

He looked away. She was right. He meant to kill her that fateful day. But, she had stared at him with such defiance and not a single trace of fear. It intrigued him. It made him want to make her fear him. But, somewhere in that journey, he fell for her.

She giggled and looked up at the starry night.

"I have decided those are our stars," she said, pointing up, changing the subject. She drew a line through a set of stars, not that he could tell exactly which ones they were. "I noticed them the first night we were together. I'll always look to them and think about us."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, feigning as if he thought she was being absurd. He was a practical man. Symbols and signs meant nothing to him. He would probably never see what she saw. She stiffened for a moment and looked away.

He kissed her jaw and slowly moved his lips down her neck, nudging a response from her. She let out a sigh. Her shoulders dropped as she gave in to his desire. But, her mood changed and he felt sadness coming from her. Leaning back, he met her eyes.

"Show me again," he said, squeezing her ass. The sparkle quickly returned. She didn't hesitate in showing him. She grabbed his left hand and moved it in a pattern in the sky. He just watched her, enjoying the way her soft body pressed against his. She was so oddly content and happy with him, of all people. He would never see what she saw in the world, in life, in people. But what he did see was her. And that was enough for him.

She released his hand, biting her lower lip. Slowly, she leaned in to kiss his jaw and then move down his neck. He didn't hesitate in returning her affections. His breathing deepened in excitement, his firm hands started to explore her body while she explored his. Exploration turned into desperation as clothes were almost ripped off each other.

Little did he know.

She mentally struggled, burdened with something that was going to happen. She desperately wanted to tell him that it was going to be their last night. She was going to die soon, murdered by the jealousy of another man. She wanted to tell him that he'd become the villain in their story. Or at least, there would be an attempt. An attempt to twist the facts to turn her against him. But, the thing was, they were meant to be. And telling him wouldn't save her. Telling him wouldn't change her own fate. And he'd meet his doom far sooner than he was meant to.

She let out a moan and wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her close.

She'd accept her death this time. If she told him, he would die with her in that moment and she couldn't have that. She had to keep silent.

Her heart hurt at the thought and she stopped moving, letting him do all the work. She didn't want to leave him, but there was no other way. His big hand brushed her cheek and he pushed her head back to look at her. She gave him a stiff smile, trying to push her sadness away.

His eyebrows knitted with worry and he absentmindedly reached down to grip the handle of his dagger. He sensed danger. Her killer would avenge her. The worry on his face was soon replaced with confusion as her own smile shifted to that of mischief. Or perhaps it was malicious.

She trailed one hand down his right arm and felt the handle of his blade. He loosened his grip, allowing her to take it. She shoved him back onto the ground and stared down at him. Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she ran his blade along his bare chest. She paused just over his heart. Slowly, she applied just enough pressure to make a small cut. He didn't flinch. Blood slowly trickled out from the nick.

Yes, she was being petty and selfish. Innocent people would suffer while she stood by his side. She could stop him, plunge his own weapon just a bit deeper, and pierce his heart. He wouldn't expect it. And then destroy his soul, save the world from a monster. A killer. Any sane, practical person would want to stop him. But, she was a little bit crazy. Crazy in love. Besides. What did she care about what happened to the world? It didn't care what happened to her.

She lowered his weapon, returning it to his hand. She pressed her mouth to the wound she'd given him and licked his blood before rising back up. His eyes burned with lust. He grabbed her hips, forcing her to rise up and letting her go to drop back down on him. They both moaned.

She raised her head up to look at the starts as she rocked her hips against him. Oh yes, the man under her, the one whose cock she rode with delight, he was a villain. A killer. The world would always fear him for who he was. They had a right to fear him. Death followed him wherever he went. But, he wouldn't be the villain in her story. Their story. He would be her hero. Her lover. Her avenger.

Oh, he'd kill the one responsible for her death. Even leave a trail of bodies in his wake before finally being stopped. At least, for this lifetime. But, he'd be back. She'd be back.

He rose up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He pounded into her harder and faster, chasing his end. She cried out as he filled her body and soul, digging her fingers into his skin and holding onto him just as tightly. She didn't want to let him go yet.

Oh, he'd find her again. She had no doubt about that. In their next life, of course. And the one after that. Their souls were connected, entangled. Meant to be. They would always be drawn to each other.

She let out a sigh as they both lay back on the blanket and stared up at the stars again. His warm body pulled her close. Raising her head, she interlocked her fingers with his and gave him a deep kiss. One that he willingly returned. She let out a hum and giggled, as his free hand playfully tickled her stomach.

It was funny that the villain of her story wasn't even a hero. He wasn't out there to destroy her killer to save the world. He was only after the one thing he couldn't get. Her. And if he couldn't have her then neither could her lover. Her killer. But, one day he would fail. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be in this lifetime.

"People will say I put a spell on you. A spell that would protect me from your evil intentions."

He huffed, unsure if he believed in magic. She smiled. He didn't have to believe. It wasn't true anyway. The spell part at least. There was just something between them. They were meant to be.

She rose up again to straddle him, so she could look down at him.

"Little do they know that you are you. You will always be you."

He smirked. His eyes sparkled with delight at the thought that he would never change. She leaned in and nibbled on his ear for a moment.

"And I'll always love you, my killer."

#michael myers x oc #smut #horror #noncon tw #slashers #fanfiction #michael Myers fanfic #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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Object of Obsession - 45 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 6,045

Chapter 45 - Love & Obsession

Sirens blared in the distance, but they were steadily getting closer.

Oh no. She had to wake up. They weren't safe. He probably needed her help. Gretchen fought with her sleepy, exhausted mind. Getting rid of Brandon had taken its toll on her. But, she couldn't rest. As much as she wanted to. Not yet.

Her body disagreed with her, feeling rather comfortable where they were laying. Comfortable? Laying?

Wake up!

The sirens grew louder. How many cops were on their way? It wasn't exactly a big town and there were already a couple in the hospital Michael had taken care of. Or were those her uncle's men? Michael wouldn't be stupid enough to try to face them all, would he? No, she was pretty sure he had retreated before. But, she was currently a liability. She really needed to wake up.

Besides. This time we go down together.

Gretchen awoke with a start, gasping loudly as she sat up in bed. Bed? She looked around, examining her surroundings. She was in a bedroom. A rather large, spacious, comfortable-looking bedroom at that. Whose? She wasn't quite sure. But there was something familiar about the place.

The sirens grew louder, making her tense and clench the comforter that was on her body. Okay, she was in a house, but the cops knew where they were.

She scooted out of bed and set her feet on the cool hardwood floor. It creaked with her added weight. Gretchen looked at herself for a moment. She was still wearing her street clothes that she'd put on when she was going to leave the hospital.

Michael.

She had to find him. The sirens blared loudly as they zoomed by the house. She froze and waited. Zoomed by? The sirens quickly faded till they were nothing but a faint memory.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited to hear them return. They would realize their mistake, no doubt. That they passed the house, whatever house she and Michael were in.

Michael.

"Michael?" she shouted. She headed toward the bedroom door but then paused. A big bay window caught her attention. It was difficult to make out with all the trees, but the sun was clearly setting. A dull natural light bathed the bedroom. Confusion settled over her. The last time she was outside it was dark and raining. How much time had passed? At least a day.

She tore her eyes away from the outside and stepped out into the hallway. Her confusion turned into a concentrated look as she tried to figure things out. Once again, her mind told her there was something familiar about the place. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Hello?" No one answered. She didn't even hear any movement.

She made her way down the short hallway, passing a single room, and down the stairs onto the main floor. The front door before her made her stop. She knew that door. It was dark blue and with decorative glass at the top. Gretchen's eyes widened as she swung it open. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and she took several steps outside. The cool autumn breeze made her shiver. The driveway, the forest, the house: She knew where she was. Which meant-

She spun around to go back into the house.

"Michael," his name came out as a whisper. He leaned against the doorway to her childhood home. He still wore the same overalls, but his mask was missing. He watched as if making sure she wouldn't wander too far. She rushed over to him and then stopped just shy of reaching him.

"Are we dead?" she asked. Why else would they be in her old childhood home? It wasn't the one where she had killed her parents. It was the one before that. One she'd briefly mentioned to Michael the first time he took her outside. Given more time, she probably would have told him more about it. She was rather fond of the house. It held the best memories for her, despite the fact that during that time she was extremely sick.

Michael reached his hand out to stroke her face. He felt far too warm and firm to be dead. She placed her hand on his, not letting him leave her cheek.

"How? Why?" So many questions bubbled inside of her, she wasn't sure where to begin.

Michael pulled away and dug into his pocket. He fished out a cellphone and handed it to her. She frowned. It was a burner phone. Pulling up the contacts there was only one number with a single name on it.

She quickly pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Nathan!" she exclaimed as she stepped back inside. "Oh, gods. Are you okay? How's your dad?"

"I'm fine. Dad's still-" he paused for a moment. "Not sure yet. The surgery went well, but… I don't want you to worry about that right now. How are you? Are you safe?"

"I'm fine. I'm safe." Although, she had no idea how Michael knew where to go. What happened to the original owners of the home? She stepped into the living room and looked around, searching for family photos on the wall. The walls were empty, but that didn't mean much. There was furniture in the home and bedding on the bed. Someone lived there… or had.

She glanced at Michael and swallowed back some saliva. She couldn't stay in the home. It was a nice thought from the serial killer. But she wouldn't be able to live with herself, knowing that another family was murdered for their home.

"Gretchen?"

"Huh? Sorry, I spaced-" she said.

"Is this what you want?" he repeated. His voice was almost too low to hear.

She looked at Michael. Was this what she wanted? Tie herself to a serial killer?

"He can't love."

"Yes," she replied. Her heart twisted slightly. He would never be able to return her feelings. But, she felt incomplete without him. He was barely out of her life for two days and she heavily mourned him.

Nathan let out a sigh. "I don't know where you are and I don't want to know."

She gulped, feeling like a little dagger pierced through her heart at her cousin's rejection of her choice. Oh. In choosing the killer, she lost maybe the last family member in her life. That is if Jethro didn't pull through. He had every right to reject her. It made sense. She was making the wrong decision here.

"At least, not yet," Nathan continued. "It'll be easier for me to tell the cops I don't know where the two of you went. I think dad knows, he told Michael something. But, he's unconscious for now."

Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought. Jethro talked to Michael? After the killer stabbed him?

"Look. I'm not going to do him any favors. I've been blaming everything on him. Dr. Loomis is pretty sure you have Stockholm syndrome and that's the story I'm going to stick to."

"Do you believe that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"No," he said sharply.

She stiffened at the tone of his voice.

He let out another sigh. "Sorry. It's just." He paused. "Hard. Wrapping my mind around everything. That ghost… he showed me a lot. But-" There was another moment of silence as if Nathan was thinking about what he wanted to say. "Gretchen. I know what you can do. And maybe that ghost is right. Maybe Michael can't kill you because a part of his soul is in you. But, you can kill him."

Her eyes widened at those words. The thought never crossed her mind. But, he wasn't wrong. She could kill Michael. Nothing was stopping her. Except my heart.

"Gods know why you love him. And… I think in some weird, fucked up way, he loves you too. Well, maybe not love. But something. He could have made sure dad was dead. I mean, dad could still die, but he has a chance of surviving. He could have killed me. He let that doctor go for you. He didn't go back for her. He also didn't kill Brandon's parents. Although, he probably would have, maybe. I don't know. But this time, he didn't. I did. Well-" Nathan paused then let out a sigh. "The ghost made me do it. He was desperately trying to figure out some way to get you to hate Michael. He targeted the doc and her family because he knew Michael let her go for you. I think he killed his parents in an attempt to gain your sympathy."

Gretchen's eyes searched for Michael. He wandered the living room, examining the place as if he wasn't listening to at least her side of the conversation. As if he hadn't spent however long she'd been unconscious and they'd been at the house searching it from top to bottom.

She felt a bit of relief at Nathan's words. She knew Michael hadn't killed the doctor. Although, she wouldn't have put it past him to kill Brandon's parents, but the doctor she was sure he wouldn't harm. Yet, Brandon planted that seed of doubt. He planted many seeds. Seeds that were sprouting because they made a little sense.

"Thank you," she said to Nathan. At least that helped.

"We have a lot to talk about. But not now. Got the cops hanging around me like crazy since last night. They think you'll call to see how dad's doing."

"They were right about that," she said.

They both chuckled at that, although it came out slightly sad. "I should go. Love you, cuz. Take care of yourself."

"Love you too, Nathan. Let me know how your dad is doing. Okay?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Gretchen?"

"Yeah?"

"You deserve to be loved, you know that, right? Happy? I know… I know as a family we fucked up. But dad and I care about you, a lot. No matter what, you can come to us for protection. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah," she quickly added since he couldn't see her movement. "I get it. Love you, too."

"Bye, cuz."

"Bye."

She ended the call and then powered off the phone, setting it on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch. Her eyes stared in the direction of the phone, but her mind wandered.

She deserved to be loved. Of course, she did. But… but Michael couldn't love. Everyone around her told her that. Even Michel had told her not to entertain the thought.

Gretchen looked up. Michael stood in the doorway leading into the hall. Waiting for her? Her knees popped as she stood up and then walked to him. His eyes followed her movements. His face was completely void of emotions, but that was who he was. Placing her hands on his chest, she played with the fabric of his clothing.

"My uncle told you to bring me here, didn't he?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

He raised his right arm and rubbed his fingers along her jaw and cheek. Suddenly, his lips were on hers. His left arm wrapped around her, pulling her to his body. She melted into his embrace, matching his desperation with her own.

His left hand grabbed her ass and she broke their kiss to groan. Damn, she needed him. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist while her fingers dug into his shoulders. He walked them up the stairs, resuming their kiss. His lips, his tongue, his touch, his smell. It set her on fire with the very need to have him.

She let out a surprised yip and chuckle as he dropped her onto the bed upstairs. She quickly threw off her clothes, leaving her only in her underwear, while he took off his coveralls. He didn't leave her alone in bed for long. Soon, his warm body was over hers again. His skin against hers. His mouth went back to kissing her, as he lifted one of her legs to wrap around his waist again.

"Part of the man's soul is inside of you- That is why he couldn't kill you." Brandon's words echoed in her mind.

"Stop," she said, placing her hand on his chest. He gave her a confused look, but let her push him back. She sat up and got off the bed. Turning her back to him, she walked to the bay window to look at the darkening sky. It was almost nighttime.

His soul. Part of his soul. She deserved to be loved. But, he couldn't love. Could she be satisfied with being his obsession? Was he even obsessed with her? Or was it that piece of his soul? Or maybe Brandon was lying. He did speak in half-truths. Telling her just enough but then twisting something to make her question what was the truth and what was the lie.

She ran her fingers along the window sill. It all boiled down to one simple question. Could she live with the fact that it was most likely he didn't want her? That his affections were really toward himself?

She let out a sigh. She was being stupid. Ridiculous. Of course, the killer didn't want her. It was a silly fantasy that she was somehow special to him. The one person he couldn't kill because he liked something about her. It made far more sense that he just didn't want to hurt himself. That he was attracted to that part that was him.

She gulped, trying to push down the lump in her throat as her eyes stung with tears. You can learn to live with it. You can lie to yourself. It sucked. At least before, she could accept being his obsession. But now? Now it wasn't about her. She would look at him and he'd break her heart. Not even on purpose. Just the mere thought that what he truly wanted was himself made her feel even more unwanted. But, she would still stay with him. Still allow herself to suffer, because her stupid heart decided it belonged to him. It was easier being around him than not.

He roughly grabbed her, turning her to look at him. A frown was on his face as his eyes searched hers for some clue as to what was going on in her mind.

"Michael. I feel like you should know." She wasn't sure why she wanted to tell him. To break the spell perhaps? Yes, that made sense. If she told him that she had a part of his soul then he could adjust his mindset accordingly.

"Brandon said-"

"No!" he said firmly, shaking his head.

"But, Michael. I think-"

His firm lips pressed against hers, giving her a full kiss. Her insides trembled along with her body as he pulled away.

"Don't," he said.

"I love you, Michael," she blurted out. "He told me that you will never give me what I crave. And, he's right. What I want from you is companionship. I want it that when you come back from-" She waved her hand in the air. "Doing whatever it is you want to do out there, that you come back for me. Sure, to fuck me, but ultimately, just me. Or, stay home because you just want to be around me for the day." She exhaled loudly. I want you to love me. He most likely didn't want or didn't care to hear the words she was saying. But, she needed to get them out. More for herself. Just release her frustrations instead of bottling them up inside. "I know it's too much to ask for. You can't give that to me because it's not me that you want. I guess I have a piece of your soul in me. So that's-" Her voice cracked, forcing her to stop talking. "That's why you can't kill me."

Michael took a step back. She'd done it. She'd broken the spell and it finally made sense to him why he was attracted to her. He could finally adjust his mentality and be free. Hell, he could probably figure out a way to leave her since he couldn't kill her. She hugged herself, waiting for the cold emptiness of his departure.

He didn't move. She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat. "He said-"

"Don't," Michael interrupted.

"But, Michael, I think-"

"Don't think, Gretchen."

Don't think? More like, don't use your emotions here. It's never been about love. And you've known that. Just sex. Your heart just refused to listen, Gretchen! You-

Her eyes widened.

“You… you… you said my name,” she said with astonishment.

His lips twitched as if he were trying not to smile. He took a step forward. His left hand roughly brushed her face and went into her hair. He tilted her head up to look at him.

"You're mine," he stated.

She nodded her head. She was well aware of that fact. She had a piece of his soul in her. He opened his mouth and then closed it. A look of frustration crossed his face as if she didn't understand. He noisily exhaled through his nose. Slowly, his free hand ran along her body as he felt each scar he'd made. He stopped on the longer more recent one. His face fell ever so slightly as if he truly did regret his action.

"I came for you," he said. His blue eyes met her hazel ones. She frowned. He didn't understand what she was saying.

No, you didn't, Michael.

She opened her mouth to explain, but a yip of surprise came out as he picked her up. He dropped her back on the bed and was over her in a second. His body grinded against hers. He wanted her. His hardening flesh made her moan with need. She wanted him too. Or he wants himself. She hated her brain for deciding to listen to Brandon and probably reality.

His keen eyes noticed as she looked away. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him.

"I do not… I would never spare a life," he said firmly.

That made her think. She gave him a look, cocking her head slightly as her brain slowly processed his words. Why hadn't that crossed her mind before?

"But, Michael. What if-" It's the goodness in your soul.

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. He rose up on his arms to look down at her. "I spared the doctor for you. Your family, for you," he said. "You live because you are you."

He settled back on top of her. His lips went to her neck as his fingers grabbed her underwear and he pulled them off with her help.

"I came for you. You're all mine," he said again. "Your lips." He kissed her lips. "Your skin." He lightly nipped her shoulder. His teeth sent sparks through her, causing butterflies to flow inside of her. She couldn't help but giggle.

He moved down, clamping his mouth on one breast while he used his other hand to play with the other. She moaned. Her blood pumped through her body, sending signals to her brain that she was aroused. He rose back up to kiss her again.

"Your breasts," he continued. "Your scars." His free hand moved down to focus on the scars on her belly. His eyes didn't leave hers. She couldn't help but suck in her stomach a little. Her own mind was still nervous about that aspect of her. She wasn't sure she would never not be self-conscious. But, she could live with him insisting he liked them.

His hand traveled down to her pussy. His fingers slipped between her folds and she tossed her head back at the contact.

"Your pussy."

"Gods," she whimpered. His fingers played with her, examining her as his mouth traveled along her body. Her hips moved, seeking his fingers out each time he pulled them away. He was stoking a blaze inside of her.

But-

"But-" her inner conflict pushed through the moment. She grabbed his wrist, groaning in annoyance at herself for stopping him from making her feel good.

Michael roughly pulled his hand out of her grasp. Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around her wrist and he moved her hand over her head. He grunted and leaned over her. She heard the sound of the nightstand drawer being pulled open. He grabbed her other hand and put it up over her head as well. She moved her head to watch as he quickly tied her wrists together using a scarf.

He finally looked down at her, his eyes searching hers for something.

But what if-

She looked away for a moment, trying to collect herself. No. No. No! It was just Brandon's way of getting into her head, making her doubt. He wanted to get between her and Michael. Had from the start.

The fucker is doing better now that he's completely gone than he did as a ghost.

Michael grabbed her chin to make her look at him again. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes a little as he shook his head.

"Gretchen."

Butterflies filled her stomach at the sound of her name again. Twice now. He took off his underwear so his sex could run along hers. Despite her protests and her mind being stupid by giving her doubts, she still desperately wanted him.

He lowered himself so that more of his weight was on her. He was so warm. So perfect.

"I'm yours, Gretchen," he said softly in her ear. "My lips." He kissed her neck. "My tongue." He licked her earlobe, sending shivers through her body. "My hands." He gently traced the spot where the scar would have been on her face. "My cock." She moaned as he moved his body, his cock stimulated her clit. But he didn't try to enter her yet.

He paused and leaned over her again to pull something else out of the drawer. Returning back to his position over her he watched her expression. She kept her eyes on his, unsure if she wanted to see what he was doing with his hands.

She felt something hard press against her palm. He closed her fingers over the object.

"My blade."

Her head jerked up in surprise. He'd placed the handle of his blade in the palm of her hand. She looked back at him, startled. He hadn't been too happy when she held his knife at the hospital. Or was it he wasn't happy she was there?

"I'll kill for you," he continued. "Kill to keep you. Kill to protect you. Kill to avenge you," he said. "I'm obsessed with you. All of you. Your body, your voice, your expressions, your movements, your life, your personality. All of it."

"Mine," she said softly before he could.

A smile crossed his lips as he nodded. "It's just you." His mouth was back on hers. She moaned into his kiss as he moved her legs so he could more easily enter her.

He pulled away to watch her with lustful admiration. Her mouth dropped as she felt him push his way into her. There was no way she'd ever grow tired of that feeling, ever grow tired of the way he filled her up just right. He moved slowly but steadily, the fingers of his right hand tangled with hers, holding her tightly, while he used his left arm to support his weight so he could watch her. She wrapped her legs around his ass, needing him to go as deep as possible.

Her emotions were all over the place. She didn’t know if she wanted him to go slow and sweet like he was doing or rough and fast. He seemed to be of the same mind, as he captured her lips with his. Deep kisses, shallow. Fast thrusts, slow ones. Her mind pushed all questions and doubts to one side, focusing on her carnal desire.

“Fuck, Michael,” she breathed as he rose up. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

It's just you. He's all yours. His body. His words. His words! He barely spoke, but when he did they had a purpose. Her body and mind blazed with need as he drove her closer and closer to her peak.

He held her hands over her head, refusing to let her go. He maneuvered her legs so she was positioned how he wanted her, but it didn't matter. She felt herself reach the edge. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, moving her hips faster. Just a little bit more and she'd explode. And, by the gods, she was ready to explode.

Suddenly, Michael stopped moving. She opened her eyes in a panic, searching his face for some answer as to why he stopped. He rose up, almost completely pulling out of her.

"Michael?" Oh great. You're a fool. Letting your guard down, thinking that-

“You, Gretchen,” he said. The moment her name left his mouth he slammed completely inside of her.

His cock, her name, the moment, it unraveled her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or do something in between as every emotion possible seemed to course through her. Her hand clenched tightly onto his. She had no control of her body, or even her mind, vaguely aware that he was pounding hard into her. Each meeting of their hips seemed to expand her orgasm even more if that were even possible. Her orgasm seemed to come from two places, her pussy, and brain, both working intensely to give her a full-body experience.

Coming back to herself, she focused on him, moving her body to meet his needs. She let his hand go so she could grab onto the bars of the headboard. He moved her legs, putting them up on his shoulders, shifting the angle of her hips so he could go deeper.

"Oh, gods! I'm going to come again, Michael," she said.

His own erratic breathing and movement spurred her on. She wanted to come with him. And she was close. She could do it. He made a sound that she recognized. His own release was soon. She let go. Her insides fluttered as she gripped him. He let out a manly guttural groan, clearly unable to hold off. His cock pulsed inside of her as he released his cum.

They both took deep breaths as they slowly recovered. He moved her legs so they were back on the bed. Lowering his tired, sweaty body back on her, he kissed her. His hands reached up to slowly undo the scarf that tied her wrists together.

"Next time I'm going to really tie you up," he said.

Her face flushed red. Slowly, he rose onto his arms. His expression went back to that neutral pose that didn't tell her what he was feeling. But, his hand gently caressed her face.

"Gretchen," he said softly.

Her name.

"Michael," she replied, kissing his hand.

He bent down to kiss her lips and then he rolled off her, letting out a heavy content sigh. She stared at the ceiling for a moment. Questions suddenly plagued her mind.

Now that they were done, what if he came to his senses?

His hand brushed against her stomach, running along her scars again, making her look at him. Digging his fingers under her side, he pulled her to him, so that her head rested on his chest or shoulder. He placed one hand under his head to look up at the ceiling. His other gently ran along her side, stroking her.

She stared at him for a moment.

"You know," she said, looking up at him. "Love and obsession are kinda similar in a twisted way."

He smirked, lowering his eyes to gaze at her.

"I can live with you being so obsessed with me that you have to come back to fuck me."

He huffed in response.

“Asshole,” she muttered.

His hand grabbed her face. He made her look at him. His blue eyes examined her.

"You, Gretchen," he said firmly.

She nodded her head. "Me."

He waited for a moment as if making sure that she truly believed him. That it registered in her brain that it was just her. Finally, he let her go to stare at the ceiling again. She lowered her eyes and rest her head on his chest to think.

You, Gretchen. He was right. The killer in him wouldn't have wanted him to spare anyone. There was something about her that he liked. He probably didn't love, but as long as it was her that he wanted she could live with that. She was going to hell, damn her soul, but she didn’t care.

I'm yours, Gretchen. She gulped at the thought. He didn't have to say that. He didn't have to make it clear that he considered himself to be only hers.

How strange.

She knew who he was. A killer. She saw the bloodlust in his eyes. The enjoyment and curiosity he got each time he killed someone. He was never going to stop being that person. He was never going to stop being the boogeyman in the night. The Shape in the shadows.

But, that was out there in the real world.

Slayer of men out there. Slayer of pussy in here. She snorted then barked out laughing at her own thought.

Michael looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to tell you.”

Michael stared at the sleeping Gretchen. She lay on her stomach, but her face was turned toward him. His eyes narrowed and he propped himself up with his left arm. She looked so peaceful, so content.

She was crazy. She had to be. She wanted him. Him, of all people! A serial killer who would never change, who would cause other people pain and suffering. Strike fear in their hearts at just the sound of his name. He had hurt her and probably would hurt her again. Yet she suffered at the thought that he didn't want her. Who in their right mind would want a killer to want them?

But she did.

She lusted for him. Not that he could blame her. He knew he was a handsome man. That's why he wore the mask. He had a threatening and imposing presence as it was. But, without the mask, he was still a man to people. Human. The mask helped strip that away. Helped him adopt the persona he wanted to be out there. Something to be feared. A presence that caused people to panic. The Shape in the shadows. Evil incarnate.

But, she made him want to take off the mask and be human. Lean in and learn a little bit more about what made her happy. Just her, of course. Get her to yip and laugh and call him an asshole. Have her look up to him with eyes asking for a "simple" favor, to spare a life. Ah, to see those many emotions that were inside of her. They fascinated him.

That ghost of hers had planted many interesting seeds of doubt in her mind. He wasn't content with just making her self-conscious about her body. He wanted her to emotionally suffer as well. Claiming she had a part of Michael's soul in her was interesting. It would have made sense, except for one rather large problem.

Michael was a killer down to his very core. He wanted to kill that doctor, despite the fact she helped them. He wanted to kill her cousin and uncle. He wanted to spill more blood on Halloween night. But, he only left them alive because she wanted it. A gift to her. He listened to her uncle who told him there would be instructions on where he could go and they'd be safe. He could have just dumped her in the car and killed some more. Found a random house, kill the occupants and stay there for a while. But instead, he drove them away from Haddonfield, all the while his own bloodlust screamed at him to return.

No. She didn't have even a sliver of his soul in her. He would have emotionally wrecked her since he couldn't kill her. Having his soul in her didn't obligate him to be nice to her. It really would just have been about sex. About his own carnal pleasure. He wouldn't have cared if she enjoyed herself or not. No. It was another lie the ghost told to torment her. To drive a wedge between the two of them. It partly worked. Worked in making her emotionally suffer at least.

He reached out his right hand and then hesitated. Keeping a close eye on her face, his fingers brushed her warm, soft skin. She let out a soft moan but didn't wake up.

Content that he wouldn't disturb her, he moved his fingers along her back till he felt a small rise of skin. The scar he'd given her when they first met. He had fully intended on killing her then. Dump her body with her boyfriend's. When she slipped and fell, knocking herself out, he convinced himself that he was taking her so that he would get more of a fight out of her. Feed off her fear before ending her. Except… that wasn't true. He lusted for her from the start. Lusted for her beautiful body that another man was enjoying. The princess costume she wore was a little too small for her, showing off her curves leaving little to the imagination. Or so he had thought.

The scars along her belly surprised him and made her that much hotter. Secrets. What else was there to discover about her? Apparently a lot. It quickly became apparent to him that she didn't fear him. She desired him.

Michael swallowed as his blood started to flow down to his cock, just at the thought of how aroused he could make her. At how her warm pussy walls wrapped around him just right. And her moans, her voice. The way his name rolled off her tongue. The wanton looks she gave him and how her hazel eyes blazed with lust for him.

His breathing deepened. He was going to have to wake her up soon to satisfy his urges. She wouldn't mind though. Plus, it'd give him another chance to be more firm with her, work on banishing those doubts.

Taking in a deep breath, she shifted positions in her sleep, turning to her side. Her mouth dropped slightly as she started to breathe from it. His eyes wandered down to her breasts. Her arm partially covered them, but he could see the scab of the knife wound he'd given to her the day before. His mistake. He shouldn't have. His anger got the better of him and he had immediately regretted his action.

Remorse. How strange. He was a killer. Innocent blood covered his hands and he didn't care. Hell, even when he stabbed her uncle, he didn't regret it. Ghost or not ghost. The old man was threatening her life and Michael had to put a stop to it. And she understood. She understood him. She knew him. He wasn't a good man. He was evil. And yet, she loved him.

"He doesn't love you, Miss. Carter." Dr. Loomis's words played in his mind. "I don't know what kind of sick game he's playing, but he's just using you. He can't love. He can obsess… but he's incapable of love."

"I know you can't love." Even she repeated the words. Yet- "I love you, Michael." That was the unfortunate part for her. At some point, her heart got attached to him.

Love.

They were right, though. He was a serial killer. His thoughts were only of his own pleasure and doing what he wanted to do, not caring if it was morally wrong. Except-

Gretchen grunted and licked her lips. He huffed, noticing a slight damp spot on the pillow from her drool. The ghost had fucked up. Fucked up big time. Perhaps things would have been different, had the ghost not tried to interfere. But every little thing that it did only drove them closer to each other. It made Michael notice her more. Think about her more. Contemplate and figure out what she meant to him. And in noticing her, he caught little things that fascinated him about her.

He huffed. No. Things wouldn't have been different. He lusted for her from the start. He noticed her in the car that fateful night. The boyfriend a mere obstacle. He came for her. He had no reason to be up there that night. Out in the middle of nowhere when he had a whole city to stalk. But he felt a pull, a summon. Destiny? Fate? He just didn't know it at the time. They would have had a slower start. The ghost just pushed their relationship into the direction it was eventually going.

She was always his focus.

His obsession.

"My love."

Chapter 46 - A Long Time Ago

#michael myers x oc #smut #horror #noncon tw #slashers #fanfiction #michael Myers fanfic #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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Latino-Hispanic Writers

𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀, 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗼-𝗛𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁. 𝗧𝗼 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸.

The blogs listed are 18+

moodboard by @/s-tarksintern

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Let's spread love and support <3

#fic recs #poc writer

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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So, like. Here's the deal.

I'm going to be the first person in line to tell you to write your story, write your catharsis, write your narrative. You deserve to be seen, deserve to show yourself off to the world if that is what you want.

The first person who will read your stories is going to be you, and everyone else is honored and privileged to walk through the world you create and see through your eyes. But that's the fucking point.

POC writers are not writing to exclude — we are writing to include. We are practically begging y'all to see us as people.

Every argument I've seen about why people don't write BIPOC Readers has boiled down to, "well I just don't have the experience" and here's the question I have to ask you: Are you reading the same stories I am?

You want the experience? FUCKING READ IT. Y'all will recommend reading smut to learn to write better smut, so read the stories BIPOC writers are writing to learn how to write inclusively.

All of this pearl-clutching about not wanting to engage in stereotype, not wanting to put forth a false narrative — READ AND REBLOG AND UPLIFT BIPOC VOICES THEN.

The stories are there!!! They are waiting!!! We have always been here. We are in every single fandom you are in.

We aren't even hard to find!!! Y'all are in the inboxes of BIPOC writers way too often to act like we're some sort of ✨rare bird✨ only seen when the astrological conditions are right. All the time y'all spent justifying your lack of inclusivity could have easily been spent reading the fics written by the people whose inboxes you've been filling.

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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I love your Thomas Hewitt story. I love it so much. THANK YOU for making such a cute story. I look forward to see where it goes.

(Totally not obsessed with it or anything)

<3 I'm so glad you love it. It's been such a blast writing and hearing that other people enjoy is such a great bonus. Thank you for letting me know.

#author appreciates you taking time to send a message

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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A Simple Act of Kindness - 24 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,294

Chapter 24 - "Where do I Begin..."

Nothing?

She looked up at him, her face a little red from embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said. “I got really excited.”

“Music, Tommy!” she exclaimed. She grabbed his hand and twirled to his side before twirling away. “I haven’t listened to music in a while.”

His heart leapt in his chest. No one had ever grabbed his hand and twirled into him like that.

“Our future home is looking better. We got a functioning radio. And we get Scooby tomorrow,” she said with glee.

A puppy. Their future home. And some day, kids.

“Tommy?” Lizzy said, interrupting his daydreaming. Her hand reached out to him.

“Will you dance with me?”

Dance? His whole body stiffened at the request. He automatically shook his head. There was a part of him that wanted to say yes, but he was scared. He’d never danced with anyone before.

“Just sway then,” she said as she started rocking. The current song ended and a new one started. The music swelled, making him want to twirl her away then back to him. But he resisted his urges.

“Where do I begin.”

“To tell the story of how great a love can be.”

It was still hard to believe. He’d won. At life! How the fuck did that happen?

“The sweet love story that is older than the sea.”

“The simple truth about the love she brings to me.”

“Where do I start.”

“With her first hello.”

Lizzy. The woman who was supposed to be dinner had become his wife. And the future mother of his children. Their children. Children that he prayed would look like her.

“She gave new meaning to this empty world of mine.”

“There'd never be another love, another time.”

“She came into my life and made the living fine.”

“She fills my heart.”

“She fills my heart with very special things.”

“With angels' songs, with wild imaginings.”

“She fills my soul with so much love.”

“That anywhere I go I'm never lonely.”

“With her around, who could be lonely.”

“I reach for her hand, it's always there.”

“How long does it last.”

“Can love be measured by the hours in a day.”

“I have no answers now but this much I can say.”

“I know I'll need her 'til the stars all burn away.”

“And she'll be there.”

“Hello, love,” she said.

He struggled, moving his tongue and throat to get out a single important word.

“W-w-wife,” he managed to push out.

Her smile widened and she nodded her head. “Wife,” she confirmed. Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed his lips. She didn’t linger, much to his disappointment.

With a sigh, she moved away from him and turned on the faucet.

Little drops of water hit him, causing him to gaze away from her ass. She gave him a mischievous smile as she flicked more water at him.

“Mind out of the gutter,” she said in a teasing manner. “Maybe after dinner.”

He could tell from the tone of her voice and the glint in her eye that “maybe” meant“diffidently”. But, after dinner felt like an eternity.

When she seemed satisfied, she let him go and turned off the water. Shaking her hands in the air, she straightened her back. He didn’t move, pinning her between him and the counter.

She tilted her head up to look at him again.

“What?” she asked. He moved his hand around her face. His fingers lightly massaged the skin along her jaw. He still needed reassurance he wasn’t in some dream.

Raising her hand up, she flicked more water in his face.

“I’m very real, Tommy,” she said as if she read his mind.

Was she real though?

Unfortunately for her, he was always going to need reassurance. Always going to need to verify that she wanted him. That she was real and not some figment of his imagination.

But, that was the fun part, wasn’t it?

Blood rushed down to his cock and his breathing deepened.

His little tease. He let out a growl and nipped her neck. Her giggle turned into a moan. His fingers dug into her skin and she leaned back, raising her arm up to touch his face.

How did this happen? He wondered, kissing her lips again.

Their lips parted with a loud smack. He moved down to kiss her cheek and then jaw, making his way to her neck.

“Oh,” she groaned. Her breathing grew deeper. One of her hands joined his as she made him massage her breasts harder.

If only she could read his mind. Or, if he could talk. The dirty things he’d whisper in her ear.

I want to pin you against every wall in this house and claim you.

I can’t get enough of you.

Tell me, Lizzy. Tell me you belong to me. You need me.

He gently stroked her warm, slick insides as his mouth went back to her neck.

Wet already, Lizzy? Her body spoke to him. Confirmed his statement. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oh, Tommy,” she moaned, grinding her hips onto his fingers. His thumb teased her clit, while he moved his fingers to explore her again.

That’s my girl. My wife. Use that beautiful mouth of yours to say my name.

He moved gently, dipping one finger into her slick hole, his teeth playfully bit her jaw. He loved the way her body quivered for him.

You like it when I finger you, don’t you, you dirty girl.

You make me so hard, I can barely control myself around you.

Beg for it. Beg for me. Beg me to let you come.

“Tommy?” Her eyes searched his face. “I want to come. Please.” She was clearly at that edge, so close. “Please, Tommy,” she begged. “Let me come on your fingers.”

He smiled. No. Not right now, love.

I need to be inside you, Lizzy. I need to feel you coming on my cock.

He quickly unbuckled his hands and let them drop, freeing his aching cock that begged to be inside of her again.

I can hardly control myself when I’m around you.

He used his free hand to hold his cock and tease her slit, making her feel his hot, hard flesh. He ran his glans along her clit and she hummed, pushing her hips back.

Tell me you want my cock. Tell me you need me, Lizzy.

She turned her head to gaze back at him, her mouth partly open, yearning. “Fuck me, Tommy,” she begged. “Please. I need your cock in me. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Oh yes,” she moaned.

She pushed her ass back, meeting his thrusts. The sounds coming out of her mouth drove him wild. Low to high pitch moans and partially coherent words.

God, you sound so sexy right now.

“Fuck. Harder, baby,” she cried out desperately. “Oh, God. Fuck me harder.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cried out.

That’s it, come on my cock, baby. I’m there too. Let’s come together.

She took in a deep breath, her whole body stiffened on him. She was coming. He let out a guttural moan as her insides spasmed and seemed to suck him in deeper.

Lizzy.

He felt his cock twitch as he released his sperm inside of her.

One day it would take, but then again, he was in no rush. Still, he rather enjoyed the feeling of cumming inside of his woman. His wife. All his.

It’s time to go home.

He turned off the radio and unplugged the cord for good measure. It was a little surprising that there was electricity in the home. But, he wasn’t about to risk an electrical fire.

With a loud sigh, she straightened her back. Her hand went through her hair as she shook her head.

“Shit, Tommy,” she whispered. He couldn’t help but smile at her, at the dazed look she had on her face. She took a step forward and her legs buckled.

“How long does it last.” The song lyrics from just a little bit ago popped into his head.

“Can love be measured by the hours in a day.”

“I have no answers now but this much I can say.”

He beamed at her. They were. She was right. It would have been nice to have a bed so he could cuddle with her immediately. But, holding her in his arms wasn’t so bad either.

“I know I'll need her 'til the stars all burn away.”

She wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed his jaw. “You fucked me good, Tommy,” she said. Her voice sounded so very sleepy. “Satisfied now?”

“And she'll be there.”

#thomas hewitt x oc #Smut #horror #fanfiction #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #noncon tw #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

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Object of Obsession - 44 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 7,243

Chapter 44 - Halloween

How had he done it? Michael wasn't entirely sure. He'd woken up with the entire house around him engulfed in flames. He had been covered in gasoline. For whatever reason, the flames hadn't reached him. It was when he moved that the fire jumped at him. The gas helped ignite parts of his body, and yet he found the strength to get out of there.

Had it been any other time, he would have stomped out through the front door to take on those who tried to kill him. But, he wasn't stupid. He was injured, partly on fire, and exhausted. He went out the backdoor. The fools had left only one person to watch that exit. They were easy to catch off guard. He didn't kill them. Instead, he managed to paralyze them and then threw them into his burning home for good measure.

After that, he trudged through the woods with no particular destination in mind. He needed rest. He needed to get better. He needed her.

He had collapsed at some point, his mind kept replaying the look on her face. She came to him, mouth gagged, eyes hard and accepting of the fate she had told him. When she spun and gave him her cheek, he knew what she wanted him to do.

He couldn't do it. This was his choice to make. He wasn't about to let "fate" tell him what to do. If he was to scar her it would be for his pleasure or amusement. Not like this. Besides. He was Michael Myers. He could take them.

Except-

He'd fucked up. She'd been pulled away from him, screaming into her gag at him to cut her. And, in that moment, he lost his cool. Desperation overtook his calm and collected senses as he tried to get her back. The first hit should have knocked some sense into him. They weren't going to kill her. He'd get her back, he would just have to be patient as usual. But it didn't. He kept seeing the man's face. The one who held her. The way he grabbed her so possessively, covering her eyes. He gave Michael a look, a smile that read only one thing. Mine, now.

Her ghost had come for her and got her. Michael lost. He lost hard. Completely unable to get back into his killer mindset as his desperation hit a whole new level. They beat him. They "killed" him, tossing his body into his grandfather's home and setting it on fire for good measure. But, he was Michael Myers.

It was at least a day, he lay on the cold, hard forest ground, gathering his strength. A part of him wished it was in bed, with her doting over him. Feel her warm soft hands, see her concern. The only person in the world who would ever feel worried for him.

Warm hands? By the following nightfall, he knew where he needed to go. He had gathered his strength and made his way back to town, back to the house that belonged to someone who could take care of him for a night. They wouldn't be happy about it, but they would do it.

Except, reaching Dr. Amelaner's house, he saw the bright yellow police tap on the door. The blood in the home told the tale of her and her family's murder. It was probably blamed on him, not that he cared. Unfortunate. For the both of them. He had started to like the idea of having a doctor "in his pocket" so to speak, in case Gretchen needed help again. Now he'd have to find someone else.

Michael had slept in her house and before leaving in the early morning, he took a butcher's knife that was in her kitchen. It was rather nice and seemed to be of good quality. His killer side grew excited at the idea of testing it on someone.

What an oddly perfect day for someone to die. Multiple people, in fact. It was Halloween. He didn't even realize his favorite holiday was so close. The citizens of Haddonfield wandered through the streets and downtown without a care in the world. They were happy. They felt safe. News of his demise played on the radio and TV. Little did they know that the killer was walking among them now.

But, his mind was conflicted, as the two halves of him, that had merged into one, split again. The killer part of him wanted blood and fear, and the lover part wanted her.

Not want. Need.

He hadn't realized just how at peace he was, knowing she was safely hidden at home for him to come back to. Now that ghost had her. Who knows what he was doing to her. Probably things that only Michael was allowed to do.

It made his blood boil. But losing his temper, getting desperate, it was what had almost killed him. Not this time.

His body led him to the hospital and that's when he saw her, standing in front of a window three stories up. He stood under a tree. Waiting. Watching. Thinking. Even in broad daylight, he seemed to go unnoticed.

It was impossible to see her facial expression, the distance was too far. But her body language told him everything. She had her arms crossed around her, hugging herself. Sad. Mourning him? It really shouldn't have surprised him. She did unknowingly tell him she loved him. It was wrong. For her at least. He wasn't a good guy. He would never change, not even for her. He had a bloodlust and had no problem appeasing it.

But then again, maybe it was a good thing that she wanted him. Because, even if she didn't, he was still coming for her. Willing or unwilling, he was going to get her and take her somewhere else so that it was just the two of them again. He had to wait though, for the right moment.

He kept tabs on who entered and left the hospital. He expected the hospital to get busy, expected to see more police officers because surely they knew he was coming for her. They had to have realize he wasn't dead. And, there were police officers. Just not enough and they weren't on alert for him.

A cute family had passed by him as the day slowly turned into night. All dressed up and laughing, ready for Halloween. Halloween, his holiday. Everyone was far too happy, far too at peace. He was going to have to fix that. Remind them that there was still a boogeyman out there.

They were almost his first victims of the night. The parents at least. He hardly noticed the children till he felt eyes on him and stared back at the little boy. The kid immediately hid behind his parents. As if they could protect him from Michael. It was rather amusing.

It was a quick glance up. His need to strike fear was starting to overpower his want to get her back. Oh, he'd get her back. He was sure of that. But, there were so many potential victims just wandering the streets. So many homes opened and inviting. But, that's when he saw him. It was difficult to make out exactly what was happening in her room. She was pressed up against a window and a man was in front of her. Far too close. Too intimate.

Well, he could have his fill of murder in the hospital. Michael had moved with determination, making his way into the building. No one noticed him. Not even Dr. Loomis. The good old doctor was sitting in a wheelchair, with Michael's mask on his lap, near the front desk. Two police officers were by his side. It amused him that the old man lived to face Michael yet another day. Was this the day he was destined to die?

Michael resisted the urge to just walk up and take what was his. He needed his mask. But, it would have caused too much attention to him when he didn't want it. He walked past a nurse as he went into the stairway. So unnoticed, even without his mask.

He was walking up the stairs when he heard a door slam open. She practically flew down the stairs, running into his body. He tried to grab her, to calm her down. But she didn't see him. She managed to slip through his fingers but that was alright. He heard someone yell down at her, calling her a bitch. He couldn't very well have that.

The first man was surprised when Michael's blade pierced his heart. The second man started to put up a fight, but Michael didn't have time for that. He slashed the man's throat before walking back down the stairs to find her. That wasn't hard.

She was fighting, desperate to get away as strangers wrapped her in a straitjacket. The way her eyes changed when she saw him: happy, sad, determined. And yet, somehow, no one noticed him. It was as if he was a ghost.

There were only six people in the hallway. Gretchen, the two men who held her, Dr. Loomis, a single nurse and a patient waiting on one of the chairs nearby.

The nurse stepped between them, close enough for him to grab. Her hand was raised with a needle in it. Not today. She was so light, so easy to turn and lift up. His knife easily sliced into her skin, mingling her blood with those he had just killed in the stairway. And, then there she lay, on the ground. Completely lifeless. Once a woman with a job, probably a family, and now nothing.

Michael looked up, meeting Gretchen's eyes. Relief? Not the emotion he would have ever expected anyone to give him. Then again, that's what she did to him. Give him responses he didn't expect anyone else to give. She made him feel different. Only to her though.

"Oh shit," one of the men said.

"You son of a bitch!" the other yelled as he placed his hand on his hip, going for his gun.

Gretchen threw her weight on him, causing him to lose his balance. They both fell to the ground. Michael grabbed the needle that was on the ground. He jabbed it into the standing man's eye while plunging his knife down into the other man's leg.

Both screamed.

Gretchen convulsed on the ground, thrashing about as her face started to turn red. There was something in her mouth. Michael quickly pulled out the cloth. The moment she was free she let out a loud gasp and coughed, filling her lungs with air.

Michael turned his attention to the man whose leg still had his knife. Before the man could react, Michael wrapped his hands around the man's throat. Not a quick death for this one, his careless act in stuffing the cloth in Gretchen's mouth could have killed her. He let that more brutal, sadistic side of him show as he slammed the man's head onto the floor until his body only twitched and moved because of the dying nerve pulses.

Finally, he stood up, pulling his knife out of the man's leg as he did so. He stared at the knife, at the blood, twisting his hand curiously at the freshness of it.

More.

"Michael," Gretchen's soft voice pierced through his head.

He slowly lowered his gaze. The straitjacket bound her, making her look more like a victim than ever before. He reached down, grabbing the front of her jacket he pulled her up to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said. His voice was just loud enough for the three to here. Not that he needed to be so quiet. The last person had took off running, out the front door the moment Michael killed the nurse.

The doctor expected Michael to kill her.

Michael leaned in, playing into the doctor's expectations. He ran his knife along her face, leaving a small trail of his victim's blood on her skin. She waited patiently, accepting whatever fate he had in store for her.

Fuck, never kill.

Michael ran his knife down and then used it to cut through the straps that bound her arms around her chest. She immediately threw off the jacket and dumped it on top of one of the bodies. He saw her muscles tense, clearly, she wanted to hug him. But, for some odd reason, she didn't.

Her hand lightly touched his arm. She seemed hesitant, unsure. She tilted her head up, giving him questioning eyes.

"Are you real?" she asked. Her voice was soft, fearful that she was imagining him.

He wasn't quite sure what possessed him. He should have just grabbed her and taken her away to prove that he was very much real. But instead, he raised his hands to cup her face. The flat of his blade pressed against her cheek. She didn't move. Her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry.

He pressed his lips against hers, not quite demanding the kiss he wanted because he couldn't be that guy just yet. He couldn't be the Michael he was starting to show her. But, just enough pressure for her to know he was very much real. Very much there.

He pulled back. Her right cheek had more blood smeared on it. He reached out and wiped her cheek with his thumb, clearing a small patch.

Dr. Loomis let out a gasp, surprised by Michael's actions. The man had spent eight years trying to find that bit of humanity in Michael. There wasn't any. Well, apparently there was. It seemed that she was somehow able to bring out just that bit of him.

Michael leaned in again. His lips brushed her ear. He saw her skin raise as his warm breath grazed her flesh.

"It takes more than that to kill me," he whispered. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Yes, much more than that.

Gretchen gripped his sleeve, squeezing his arm as if assuring she was real as well. Then she moved. The sudden feeling of panic gripped him as her fingers slipped off his arm. His hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist, rather painfully he was sure. But, it was time to go. Time to stash her somewhere safe before he began his Halloween killing spree.

Michael tightened his grip on his blade while he pulled her closer to him. His brow furrowed. It dawned on him. The two really only important things to him right here in his hands. His knife in one and Gretchen in the other. Sure, he had killed people with things other than a knife, but it was the knife that he enjoyed the most.

Michael spotted Dr. Loomis who stared back at him, frozen, transfixed. Michael couldn't help but turn his head away from the old man. He was acting too human for his liking. Gretchen moved and he tightened his grip on her wrist.

I am not letting you go right now. She understood. But, she still moved away from him. He kept her within his sight through the corner of his eye. She leaned down and grabbed something from Dr. Loomis. The old man grabbed her free wrist.

"He doesn't love you, Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis insisted. His voice was loud enough for Michael to hear. "I don't know what kind of sick game he's playing, but he's just using you. He can't love. He can obsess to an unhealthy level. But the man has no soul. He is incapable of loving someone."

Gretchen's body tensed and Michael saw her look back at him. He still kept his head to one side. Not that it really mattered. Both had seen his face plenty of times. It was the principle of the matter. And, he wasn't quite sure why Dr. Loomis thought she had a choice here.

Michael couldn't admit to loving her. She knew that. And Dr. Loomis was probably right. He wasn't sure he knew how to really love. But he knew how to fuck. And he knew how to obsess. And she was his obsession. She would have to make do with that.

Gretchen moved back to his side.

He noticed something in her left hand and he turned his head to look down at it. His mask. Michael raised his head, eyebrows knitted with surprise and confusion. Gripping his mask, she rose to her tiptoes and placed it on his head. Slowly, she lowered it to cover his face. She paused for a moment and then kissed his lips before pulling the mask completely down. Michael's breathing came out smooth and steady through his mask. He felt oddly complete.

A silent gasp made both of them turn to look at Dr. Loomis. The old man's eyes were wide with surprise. It seemed as if he was having trouble understanding what was happening.

Michael gave Gretchen a look. You know who I am. What I do. He felt as if he was giving her a choice.

She looked up at him without fear.

"I want to end him. I want to save my uncle and cousin. Can we do that?"

Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest at her request. Michael stared down at her through his mask. His beautiful blue eyes revealed nothing about what he was thinking. His mask amplified his deep and even breathing.

Not even a hint.

She knew what she was asking of him. A lot. To actually try and help her save two people. How they were going to save Nathan was beyond her. But, at least her uncle's life would be easier. If Brandon hadn't already killed him.

He'll use Jethro as leverage to get you.

Gretchen didn't look away from Michael's eyes, letting him think about what he wanted to do. Be a hero? Your hero. He would get to murder though. She wasn't going to stop him from doing that.

Michael turned his head and looked up at the ceiling lights.

"Oh shit!" A man yelled.

Michael spun and moved from Gretchen's side as he rushed over to the officer who walked in from one of the hallways. The man scrambled to grab his gun. He fired, but his bullet hit the ground as Michael pushed his gun down.

"Miss. Carter," Dr. Loomis said, just loud enough for her to hear. She looked at the old man. He was still trying to reach her. "Think about this. Really think about this. You're a decent young lady. Your family loves you. You don't want to do this. You don't want to help this evil stay on this Earth."

Don't want to do this…

The officer let out a cry of surprise as Michael pushed him back into the hallway and away from her view. Didn't stop them from hearing the sounds as the two men fought.

Dr. Loomis was right. She didn't want people to die. She bent down and picked something up from the ground. Walking over to the old man, she placed her hands on his wheelchair.

"You're going to sleep, Dr. Loomis," she stated, pressing the needle into his skin. The one meant to knock her out.

His eyes widened and he looked as if he were going to fight her, but the drugs kicked in quickly.

"Pray to your God that we die up there. Together," she said, pulling the needle out of his neck. "I don't want him to kill people. But I'm not going to stop him. I want my family to be safe."

Dr. Loomis's head slumped. She carefully arranged him so that he wouldn't hurt himself. Michael's presence made her stand up straight and look up at him.

"You like him," she said. His mask was raised just enough for her to see his mouth. She so desperately wanted to kiss him again. "But he hates you. I figured knocking him out would be better than having him hinder you."

Michael reached out and ran his fingers along her jaw. He leaned down and pulled out the keys from her pocket.

"Go," he said as he placed them in her hands.

"But-"

"I won't kill them. I'll find you. Go or I'll go with you."

She clenched her keys, wanting to argue with him.

"The ghost is in my cousin. Just… help my uncle escape and then get out of here."

Michael didn't reply.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she made her way to the front door. She paused. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead. It had started raining at some point. Putting her jacket over her head, she walked outside.

Maybe he was sparing her from seeing him in full action. Although, she'd already seen him kill several people by this point. Or perhaps she was his kryptonite. His weakness. He knew he'd be too distracted with her around.

Reaching her uncle's car, Gretchen paused. But, Michael didn't know how to deal with a ghost. She tapped her head with the palm of her hand. The fog in her brain persisted, but, she could feel glimpses, sparks. Feel that bit of her that had been unlocked before her birthday.

Michael couldn't deal with a ghost, but she could. And she wanted things to end. Needed them to end. She couldn't constantly be looking over her shoulder. Wondering when Brandon would show up again. She needed him to move on.

Gretchen spun on her heels and rush back into the hospital. Michael wasn't in the front hallway, meaning he trusted her to leave like he told her to.

Oh, he's going to be so pissed. For a brief moment, her heart jumped at the thought of what he would do to her once they were alone. Focus!

Gretchen opened the door to the stairway and ran up the stairs. She had to skip by two bodies. She recognized one. The man who had rushed after her when she was running down the stairs.

Michael. She'd bumped into him and didn't even realize it. Her mind was so focused on escape. Reaching the top door, she paused for a moment before opening it.

A nurse lay on the ground, blood pooled around her from a stab she'd received. Michael hadn't wasted any time in doing what he did best. Turning the corner into the hallway that had her room, she froze. Nathan. Her cousin lay on the floor near her door. A quick glance around him show no weapons, but that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her.

Another body was near his. Michael's knife stuck out of the man's chest. Further down the hallway, she heard objects being thrown and pushed followed by some men shouting.

"Nathan," Gretchen whispered. She rushed over to her cousin, then paused. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of Michael's blade and pulled it out of the dead man's chest.

Just in case. She didn't want to use it on her cousin. But she wanted something to protect herself. Her own powers still remained just out of reach.

Crouching by her side, she tightened her grip on the knife. Carefully, she moved Nathan's head to face her. She examined him. His face didn't fade. She didn't see Brandon. He didn't look like he was bleeding. Had Michael just knocked him out? She placed her hand by his nose. His chest moved and warm air came from his nose.

"Nathan?" she asked, pushing his shoulder.

His eyes opened for a moment. He moaned and started to move. She kept a close eye on him. He was himself. Brandon was gone. For whatever reason, his ghost left her cousin.

"Fuck. My head's killing me," he groaned.

She placed her hand on his forehead. It was burning up. "Nathan, you-"

"Gretchen?" his eyes widened and then he shook his head. "No. You need to get out of here. He's obsessed with you."

"But-"

"Go. I'll be… I'll be… fuck." He placed his hands on his head.

A hand wrapped around her wrist that held the knife and roughly pulled her up on her feet. She let out a cry of surprise and tried to attack, switching the weapon to her other hand. Michael grabbed her other hand as well, glaring down at her in anger. Still the same eyes. Still himself, but then again, she had a feeling that the ghost couldn't possess Michael.

Michael took his knife out of her hand. Gripping her wrist harder than he needed to, he pulled her away. He shoved her toward the stairway and elevator the moment he turned into that hallway.

"Michael!" she started to protest.

The elevator dinged. A sharp sting burned her chest, just above her right breast. Michael had slashed her.

"Asshole!" she snapped, pressing her hand against the shallow wound.

Michael's pupils dilated as if he was surprised by what he'd done. Giving her the smallest of headshakes, he squared his shoulders and moved toward her. His threatening demeanor caused her to walk backward.

"He went this way!" a man yelled.

Michael turned his back to her. Gripping his knife tighter, he took three long steps away from her and toward the new threat. One of them could be Brandon. She needed to know where the damn ghost had gone.

"Michael-" Brandon's ghost is still around. Some-

Gretchen let out a gasp of surprise as a hand clamped around her mouth.

"We're going, love," Jethro's voice whispered in her ear.

She'd fucked up.

Michael turned. His eyes widened slightly as he took a step toward her. Two men rushed into the hallway.

"Die, you piece of shit!" A shot rang out, hitting the wall near Michael.

Time slowed. At least for her. She could feel Michael's dilemma. Turn his back to his attackers and get to her. He'd probably die. Or turn his back on her to take care of his own immediate threat. This couldn't be a repeat of last time. They both knew it. Her look of panic changed to understanding. Michael would find her again.

Michael turned his back to her while Brandon dragged her into the elevator and pressed a button. Her heart beat dramatically in her chest as the door closed her in with the ghost that just refused to give up.

Not that it really mattered, there was only one extra floor, but Gretchen quickly hit the unlit button. Jethro released and spun her, slamming her against the wall. Clear anger on his face. She should have known. Nathan was injured and himself. She should have realized that the ghost had moved into her uncle.

"Fuck you, Brandon," she snapped. "Get out of my uncle."

Her head snapped to one side as a burning pain pulsed on her cheek. Stars invaded her vision for a moment. He'd smacked her. She pressed her hand against her cheek but refused to give him a look of surprise. Instead, she glared at him with contempt.

"Language," he said, pointing his finger at her face. "I'm getting tired of your attitude."

"Fuck you," she spat, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him back. "What? Did Nathan give you too much of a fight that you had to leave him and possess my uncle now?"

The elevator door dinged and opened. Brandon placed his hand around her neck. They both looked as if expecting to see Michael there, waiting for them. He wasn't. The door slowly closed, trapping her once again with the angry ghost.

"I know, by the way. My uncle told me everything!" She pushed against him, trying to escape his grasp.

Jethro glared at her. No. He's Brandon. Not Jethro. His face shifted from anger to a look that made him seem a bit more conniving. He let her go and stood back.

"Oh? What did he say?"

"Told me about our family legend. How apparently I was destined to be chased by two men. An evil murdering one and then my soulmate." She was stalling for time. There was a clearing in her mind. Or at least, there was going to be. She could feel it. The tingling sense of growing power as the fog slowly lifted. And Brandon's face was starting to show over Jethro's. Not to mention, she needed to give Michael time to get to them.

Brandon slammed his hand on the emergency stop button. The elevator let out an alarm as it came to an abrupt stop.

"And, I take it you think I'm this evil man. This murderer?" he asked, turning to face her.

"What do you think?" she snapped.

He snorted, shaking his head. Without warning, he grabbed her and pushed her against the elevator wall again. Her head slammed hard against the siding, making her groan as pain shot through her. Michael never did that. For some reason, her mind immediately thought of the first time Michael pushed her up against the wall. But his hand had gone to the back of her head to protect her from getting too hurt. A strange softness in him that had surprised her at the time. It probably surprised him too. It was unexpected. That was probably the first time he tried protecting someone from getting too hurt.

Brandon's hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed, shortening the air she could take.

"I make one tiny little mistake and you hold it against me. Meanwhile," Brandon nodded down to her fresh wound. "Michael cuts you up real good and you'll still fall into his arms."

Yeah… she wasn't too happy about that cut.

"I will admit," he said. His mouth twitched in annoyance. "I went about things between you and I all wrong. In death, of course. Had I lived, you would have been none-the-wiser. But you don't understand how maddening it is, watching you go to him. Time and time again. And I know why. I've told you why. See, I remember. That's the funny thing about being dead. You get to remember things about your past lives."

She couldn't help but glare at him. Her hands went to his as she tried to get him to loosen his grip.

"I don't blame you. See, in the past, you had to do it. Michael, always the killer, took you. You and I were going to marry. We were meant to be. We loved each other. Yet, he took you, raped you. He was going to kill you. But, you saved yourself. You used the old magic taught to you by your grandmother to take a part of his soul so that he would never want to harm you. It sort of worked. But, when I came to rescue you. Michael lost it. He killed you and himself so that we couldn't be together."

She frowned. There was an air of truth. She felt it, deep in her soul. Events of the past that had happened. But, he was also lying, or perhaps misrepresenting things. Twisting them, knowing she'd feel the familiarity, but she wouldn't know what exactly was true.

"Ever since then it's been a thing. You're born. We come for you. If your powers don't kill you then he does. Unable to accept it when he loses. Because he always loses when I show up."

She shook her head. "You're lying," she said. Michael was many things. A murderer most of all. She knew that. But, she had a feeling that he'd kill the entire world if he had to just to keep her. He'd go down fighting. But he wouldn't kill her.

Brandon's mouth twitched in anger. "He's the murderer, Gretchen. In this life. The one before that and the one that's to come. He'll never not be what he is. Why can't you see that? He's the bad guy! Look, he even cut you. Any deeper, any harder, he could have pierced your heart. He could have killed you."

Gretchen's heart pounded in her chest. Michael's anger had gotten the best of him. It was a horrible excuse. His anger. And she could see it in his eyes that he immediately regretted it. It wasn't the first time he'd cut her. Hurt her. And she wasn't about to let him get away with it if they both lived past the night.

Michael was the bad guy. She knew that. How odd. The absolute and firm understanding that he was who he was and there was no changing him. But, she never once thought to herself that she could change him. It did suck, to say the least, knowing that he would be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people. He might even add a scar on her body.

But my heart is bound to him.

"If he can't have you, he'll kill you, Gretchen," Brandon reiterated.

That's where you're wrong.

"The only person who has really tried to kill me is you," she said, glaring at him.

Brandon rolled his eyes as if his attempt to get her to commit suicide wasn't a big deal. "I've been trying to save you, love. Yes, I have tried to get you to kill yourself. But, I had two very good reasons. One, your family never tried to help you with your powers. They always let them destroy you. I knew what kind of pain you were in for. Or at least, I thought I did. Imagine my surprise that they didn't overwhelm you like they have before. That they didn't give you the painful death that I expected and wanted to save you from. But, I also wanted us to start over again. No point in you living in sadness and pain without me."

Brandon's eyes searched her face. "You're not convinced," he said.

Half truth, half lie. She couldn't help but feel that he was twisting things somehow. Manipulating the knowledge he had to suit his own narrative. He knew he could do that. It might have worked. If she trusted him. If she still believed he was her soulmate. His desperation to have her believe him, and the feeling that he was trying to manipulate her worked against him.

"You've lied to me from the start, Brandon," she said. "Maybe not when you were alive, but ever since you died. You put thoughts into my head, trying to convince me that they were my own. You tried to make me go crazy. You keep changing your-"

He squeezed her throat, cutting off her words and air.

"I'm done, Gretchen. Let's start over," he said, giving her a smirk. "I won't fuck up next time."

Panic coursed through her as she grabbed his fingers and tried to loosen his grip. His hand was like a vice around her throat. He used his other hand to pull her fingers away. Her eyes darted to the elevator buttons. She just needed to get it moving, get the door open. Michael was out there. He had to be. She just needed to let him in.

"It'll be okay," he said as he hushed her. Blackness started to invade her vision. Her lungs burned, demanding air.

It's never Michael who kills us in the end. It's him.

Her strength quickly waned. She'd fucked up. She should have known he was going to eventually try and kill her.

I don't want to die this time. If only there was some way to give her uncle just a little bit more strength so he could regain control of his body.

Brandon released her, allowing her to take in a deep breath of air. She gasped and coughed. She placed her knees on his chest and pushed him back. He stumbled.

"Hurry. I don't know, how long I can keep control," Jethro said. He cried out, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees.

Gretchen staggered to the panel and hit the emergency stop button again. The elevator came back to life, jumping slightly before it resumed its next descent. Gretchen wrapped her hand around her throat protectively while she caught her breath. In the far corner, Jethro groaned.

Brandon let out a frustrated cry. "I am trying to help your family here," he yelled, clearly at Jethro. "Help the fucking world."

The door dinged and then opened. Gretchen scrambled to her feet, throwing herself out of the enclosed space. Brandon lunged at her, grabbing her ankles. She dropped to the ground, letting out a choked cry.

"You're done," he snapped as he scrambled on top of her. She screamed, scratching at his face to get him off her. A body rammed into him. Gretchen rolled away as Nathan rose up and punched his father's face.

"Get out of my dad!" he screamed.

Brandon punched him back, before kicking him in the stomach. Nathan gasped for breath, doubling over in pain. Gretchen scrambled to Nathan, who pushed her back.

"Gretchen, get back," he commanded as he staggered to his feet.

Brandon stumbled onto his feet. Anger. There was so much of it enveloping the room.

"Hitting your own father?" Brandon said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fuck you, ghost piece of shit. We'll figure out a way to get rid of you," Nathan snapped. His arm went out to protectively keep her behind him.

Brandon smiled, revealing bloody teeth. "I'm never going to stop, Gretchen. I can switch between them. Left my mark on their souls. You try and kill me, get rid of me, I'm taking them both with me. But." He extended his hand out. "Take my hand. Save their lives. I'll let them live. I won't drag them with me if you come with me. Fuck the world, right? You don't care what happens to innocent people. But your family. Well…"

"Don't," Nathan whispered.

She didn't plan on it. Still, her heart wrenched at the thought of the final two members of her immediate family suffering because of a possessive ghost who didn't know he had lost.

A warmth pressed against her and she looked up. Michael brushed past her, putting himself between her and her uncle's possessed body.

"Not this fucking time," Brandon snapped. He turned and started to run toward the entrance of the hospital.

"Don't!" Gretchen grabbed Michael's arm as he started to stalk toward the fleeing Brandon. She would figure out a way to save her uncle and cousin. Brandon was arrogant and manipulative. He was stalling. Trying to get her to doubt herself. But, he was scared of her. They could escape for now, and she'd get stronger like her uncle wanted her to. Get that damn ghost out and force him to move on by himself.

"Gretchen!" her uncle's voice called out as a warning.

She moved her gaze ahead.

Time slowed.

Brandon hadn't been running away like she thought. He'd picked up a gun from one of the men Michael had killed earlier and raised it, aiming directly at her.

Michael pushed her back as he moved forward. Hands grabbed her. Nathan covered her body with his. Someone screamed. It was her. Nathan let out a grunt and his body jerked as the bullet hit him. Michael didn't waste any time. Just as Brandon moved the weapon to shoot him, Michael slashed at him, cutting his arm and forcing the gun to fall to the ground.

She cried out, partly begging, while also accepting her uncle's fate. She was about to watch her uncle lose his life. And it wasn't because Michael was targeting her family just because. He saw a threat and he was going to take care of it. Whether she liked it or not. It was his way now.

Nathan's body slouched on her, making her focus on him. He slumped to the ground, taking her down with him.

"Nathan?" she said in a panic.

"I'll be fine," he murmured. He wasn't wrong. The bullet had hit his shoulder. Her relief was short-lived as she looked up just in time to see Michael drop her uncle's body.

"No!" she cried out, scrambling to Jethro's side. He was alive, but barely. His pulse was slowing as the blood started to pour out of him. "Live. You need to live."

She desperately searched for something. Some spell or knowledge that'd help her keep him from dying.

"As I said, murderer," Brandon taunted her. "Think he'll kill Nathan next? Or spirit you away to kill him another day?"

A shadow loomed over her. Gretchen looked up. Michael gazed down at her. His blue eyes held determination and no sorrow for what he had done.

"Dad!" Nathan cried out as he got to his feet and then dropped down, moaning in pain. Gretchen turned her attention to her cousin. Brandon's ghostly form moved toward him.

Not him too. No. She wasn't going to allow Brandon to win. He'd tormented her for far too long. No, Brandon. You're done.

An eerie calm settled over her.

"Stop," she commanded in a low voice. She focused on Brandon. He turned to look at her. A knowing smile on his face. He thought he had her. Thought he had the upper hand in causing her emotional pain. Get her to hate Michael by forcing the man to kill her family in front of her.

"You should have stayed dead, Brandon," she said. She could give him some grand speech about his failures. How every little thing he did just pushed her further into Michael's arms. He probably thought that forcing Michael to kill her uncle would make her turn on him. If Brandon didn't kill her at least she'd hate Michael.

But, he didn't deserve to hear any speeches. He didn't deserve to know where he'd fucked up. He should have taken a hint and moved on. She could see the rips and tears that she'd made when she forced him from her home. She could see the bits that tied him to her uncle and cousin. Easy to snip and free them.

No more repeating. No more back and forth. I've made my choice. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were meant to get married. Maybe they were in love and Michael had stolen her away. He lies. But, that didn't matter this time around and she didn't want it to matter the next time either.

She stood up. Brandon's smile faded as his eyes widened in panic. He reached his hand out as if to stop her or implore her, but she didn't care. Her mind cleared. She found the words that she needed to say. Words that no one knew the meaning of. But she did. She kept her attention on the ghost. He let out a scream that only she could hear. Chills ran through her body. She wasn't just killing the man. She was obliterating him.

His ghostly image tore as if he was being clawed apart. For a moment, it seemed as if he was looking to escape. Perhaps move on. He started to sink into the ground. But, it was too late for him. She knew it. He knew it. He just didn't want to accept it. He opened his mouth but no final words came out. Lies. Truth. An attempt to make her feel for him. Didn't matter what he was going to say. She blinked and he was gone.

Gretchen could only hear her own heavy breathing as she stared at the spot where his ghost stood.

No more.

He was gone. Not just gone in that she'd see him again in the next life. She wouldn't. She'd ripped him apart in a rather painful way if ghosts felt pain. Torn him into tiny pieces. He didn't exist anymore.

Gone.

Her body felt light and she took a step back. A wave of dizziness hit her hard. An arm wrapped around her just before her legs gave out.

"I think I'm going to pass out," she managed to say. Michael lifted her up. She met Nathan's eyes for a moment. She hadn't noticed him move. He was under her, so dangerously close to the serial killer. Nathan had his hands on his father's chest, trying to control the bleeding.

Gretchen looked up at Michael.

"Don't kill him." She didn't think he would, but, she just had to ask. Her eyes grew heavy as exhaustion hit her hard. She didn't fight it, letting her body relax in his arms. Somewhere in the distance, she heard sirens. Hopefully, he'd take them somewhere safe.

Chapter 45 - Love & Obsession

#michael myers x oc #smut #horror #noncon tw #slashers #fanfiction #michael Myers fanfic #tw noncon

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demona-andariel · 8 months

Text

Object of Obsession - 43 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 7,094

Chapter 43 - Heart & Soul

Gretchen stared out of her hospital room window. Her arms wrapped around her chest as she hugged herself tightly. She was going home soon. Not her apartment in Chicago. Nor the house she had inhabited with Michael. Not that she could go back there even if she wanted too.

She bit her lower lip at the thought, fighting back the tears. They'd let it burn. They had let the house burn to the ground, leaving basically only a skeletal structure in its place. There were so many people there, watching: Firefighters, police, reporters, curious citizens. Brandon had tried to take her to see everything. But Jethro wouldn't allow it, much to her relief. He didn't want her anywhere near the police. He didn't want to give them any more ammunition to build up a case against her. Because, apparently, that's what they wanted to do.

It was the reason why she was cuffed to the hospital bed when she woke up a day ago. That was one of the first things Jethro made sure to take care of, admonishing "Nathan" for even allowing the police to handcuff her in the first place.

"Victim", "Stockholm syndrome", and "threaten legal action", were some of the words that she picked up while Jethro laid it in on "Nathan". It partially amused her, the look of frustration and anger on Brandon's face as he tried to keep himself calm. But then the other part wanted to scream and shout that it wasn't Nathan but a ghost in his body who was in control. It was oddly curious why he decided to play along and pretend to be Nathan. Maybe he hoped Jethro would leave the two of them alone for a longer period of time.

Her uncle didn't. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe her evident distress and pain about the whole situation made him regret keeping secrets. But then again, he did put her back on the pills to suppress her powers. That was why she was still in the hospital instead of a hotel. He wanted the doctors to monitor her. Whatever lie he told them worked. As well as a psych evaluation or something like that. She wasn't entirely sure. She had kept her mind distant, uncaring of what her eventual fate would be. She wasn't quite ready to live again.

The sound of an ambulance siren caused her to clap her hands over her ears. Her mind flashed back to the video Brandon had shown her the day before. It was of the police and firefighters, sifting through the charred rubble of the place she was starting to call home. She had closed her eyes for the rest of it, unfortunately, she couldn't close her ears. Gods, damn him. She tried to be brave. Tried to hold back her emotions, but the sound of their excited voices as they found his charred body broke her.

Luckily, she didn't have to hear much more. Jethro had stepped back into the room at that moment and yelled at "Nathan", smacking him on the back of his head.

"Gods, Nathan. You're being childish and an asshole. Your cousin is hurting. Delete that video and go get us something to eat."

Nathan. Was he still in there? A part of her hoped he was. Hoped he was fighting to regain control of his body. While a smaller part of her hoped he wasn't. Because, if he couldn't regain control and was watching what Brandon was doing with his body it would destroy him.

Chills ran through her, causing her skin to rise. For now, she was safe from him. Safe from his advances, but that wasn't going to last long. For whatever reason, Jethro kept himself close by, showing up at random times, making it impossible for Brandon to find the right moment to accost her.

"Still feeling sorry for yourself?" Nathan's voice cut into her mind.

Brandon. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact. She heard Nathan. She saw Nathan. But she knew it was Brandon.

Gretchen focused on the outside. The sun was slowly setting, it was going to be dark in an hour or so. From her vantage point, she could see families already setting out, turning from one residential street to another. All dressed up for Halloween. Even the hospital staff had dressed up.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

His fingers brushed her arm and she jerked back. "He's fucked you up so bad, baby," he said.

She glared at him. Brandon let out a sigh as if he was disappointed in her.

"Well, I brought someone. A real expert about the man who you think you love."

Gretchen slightly turned. Her eyes landed on Dr. Loomis. She'd never met him before, but she was familiar with his face. It was featured on the inside cover of the book he'd written about Michael Myers. A book she owned, having bought it shortly after moving to Haddonfield. Gods. How didn't she see it then?

"Dr. Loomis," she said.

He was in a wheelchair wearing a hospital gown. Brandon moved away from her and leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He clearly planned on observing.

"Michael do that?" she asked. Her voice surprised her with how casual she sounded.

Dr. Loomis nodded. "He came to his old family house and attacked an innocent couple who lived there."

She snorted. "Innocent?" she asked. "I won't deny that Michael's a killer." Was. "And that he's killed innocent people before. But I highly doubt, in your case, they were as innocent as you want me to believe."

Dr. Loomis studied her for a moment. "They would have been innocent," he corrected. "Michael is not the man you think he is."

"And who do you think I think he is?"

"A man who can love. Who can care. He can't care, Miss. Carter. He can't love."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the window, turning her full attention on the old man. "I never said I thought he could love," she said.

"But you think he can care," Dr. Loomis stated.

Unfortunately, she couldn't deny that, as much as she wanted to. She did believe that he did care about her in his own way. He wouldn't have done the things he did if he didn't care. Love? Her heartbeat picked up at the thought. No, she couldn't even entertain that thought.

Dr. Loomis shook his head. "He can't care."

"You're the expert," she said.

He nodded his head in agreement even though she was being sarcastic. "I've known him since he was six years old. I worked with him for fifteen years. And what I quickly came to realize is that there is nothing inside of him. You can't rehabilitate him. You can't change him. He has no conscience. No understanding between life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I spent eight long years trying to reach him. Searching for what you thought you saw. A scared, scarred little boy who just needed the right tools to find that humanity in them. He doesn't have it in him. Didn't you see? His pale, emotionless face with the blackest of eyes?"

Blue. Blue eyes. She didn't answer.

"When I realized there was just nothing I could do it hit me that he needed to be locked up, forever. He's evil. It's really that simple. He doesn't know how to love. The first time he escaped, he proved it. Killing all those people until he was too injured to continue. I thought we put a stop to him. Hoped that his disappearance was because he was dead."

You're going about this conversation all wrong, Dr. Loomis. She wanted to say. I did not once say I tried to change him. I knew who he was from the start. Do I hate that he kills people? Of course. But my heart loves him. And we both know that love isn't logical. Maybe he didn't care. But he accepted me for who I was without question. That's all I wanted. All I needed.

Her eyes traveled down to Dr. Loomis's lap. The man had a folder in his hands. He looked down, his fingers tightened on the folder for a moment before he let it go. He glanced at Brandon.

"I shouldn't have these. And I shouldn't show them to you. But, I talked to your cousin and we think that this will help you. Help you understand the kind of man who kidnapped you. I understand that he killed your boyfriend in front of you. And that perhaps your brain had to switch into survival mode. But you're free now and maybe this will help you realize what kind of monster had you living with him."

Dr. Loomis hesitated then pulled out a photo. Gretchen let out a sigh and took it. A picture of Brandon no doubt. Or maybe one of the many victims that Michael had killed over the years.

Her heart plummeted as she clenched her jaw. Dr. Amelaner was it? The woman was lying on what appeared to be tile floor, covered in blood with clear knife wounds in her chest. She did recognize her. Sort of. Her brain was still a little fuzzy from that day. She liked her. She asked Michael to let her live. A silent plea. He had. Did he go back to kill her later?

"No," she said, shaking her head as she handed him back the photo. "He didn't do that." It didn't make sense. Why would he let the woman go just to kill her later? Wasn't like Gretchen would have left him if he had murdered the woman in front of her.

"I interviewed her. She said Michael let her go, but that's not like him, Miss. Carter. I don't know what his reasoning for it was. Perhaps he enjoyed the thought of her living in terror for a little while before finishing what he had started. She lived in terror. Her idiot of a husband thought they were safe. He found out the hard way." Dr. Loomis pulled out another photo. "As did their son."

Gretchen straightened her shoulders. "Michael doesn't kill kids. You even wrote that in your book."

"He didn't. But clearly, he did this time," Brandon said.

She glared at him, shaking her head. Dr. Loomis gave Brandon a look as well. A shut-up-and-let-me-hand-this look.

"It is possible for serial killers to change and Michael has no remorse, Miss. Carter. He has been gone for almost nine years. He doesn't understand morality. I believed he didn't kill children before because he didn't see them. Clearly, he saw this boy. Maybe the kid tried to defend his parents. We'll never know."

"Show her the others as well. Victims I'm sure she didn't know about." Brandon didn't wait, grabbing the folder and pulling out two photos, putting them in front of her face.

"Mr. Carter-" Dr. Loomis interjected.

"Your dead boyfriend's parents, if I'm not mistaken," Brandon said, knowing the answer.

She didn't grab the photos, leaning back as her eyes stared at the gruesome images. His mother looked as if she'd been strangled before her throat was slit. His father looked as if his neck had been snapped.

"Mr. Carter!" Dr. Loomis said firmly. "This is not-"

"I think you've done enough, Dr. Loomis," Brandon interrupted. He forced the pictures into Gretchen's hands before turning. Done enough? More like, Brandon was done with the doctor. He'd brought the man because he knew Gretchen wouldn't believe him if he brought the photos himself. He used Dr. Loomis to get the information he wanted her to know. Lies?

"When did they die?" Gretchen asked just as Brandon opened the door to her room.

"A couple of days ago," Dr. Loomis said.

She nodded her head and turned her back to look out the window again. Was it possible? She tried to piece together a timeline. Did he have time to make it to town and do the murders before coming back? Maybe? With all that had happened, she lost all concept of time.

The door closed, but she wasn't alone.

"You killed them, didn't you?" she asked, turning to face Brandon. She couldn't trust him, and having her back turned to him while alone with him was a very bad idea.

"God, Gretchen. You're so stupid," he snapped, placing his hand on his face. He groaned in frustration. "Still refusing to see that serial killer for who he really was? I've never met the doctor chick in my life. And why the fuck would I kill my own parents? What would that do for me? Cause me more pain than anything else. And make you suspicious. Can't you see, baby? He's trying to get between us. Even in death, the bastard laid enough seeds of doubt to ruin my credibility."

"You lost all your credibility when you decided to haunt me," she said, feeling no sympathy for him.

He studied her. Suddenly, the mood shifted. He sauntered over to her, forcing her back until she hit the wall and window sill. He set one hand on the window sill by her side and the other on the window beside her head. His body and warmth were far too close to her.

"Move," she said, pushing his body back. He barely budged.

"My love," he whispered, dropping his voice to sound more soothing.

His constant shifting of moods was giving her whiplash. He seemed to be trying to find the right thing to say or do that would win her over. But nothing he did was genuine. It was all an act, a ploy. He spoke half-truths, manipulating them to whatever light he needed them to be viewed at. But in the end, it didn't matter what he said or did.

Gretchen searched his face for a moment. He didn't get it. He didn't understand. "Brandon. There is literally nothing you can do or say that will make me love you," she said, speaking the thoughts instead of leaving them in. He could have been truly the nicest guy in the world. He could have had a heart made of gold for her. Self-sacrificing. But none of that would have mattered. Her heart had set itself on one person and refused to budge.

His countenance changed again. His lips pressed into a thin line and his muscles flexed. Without warning, his hand wrapped around her neck and he forced her head to twist up. Her bruises screamed in pain, but she managed to give him a look of contempt. His thumb pressed against her jawbone for a moment. For once, the eyes looking back at her were Brandon's, dark and emotionless.

"There you are," she said.

"Here I am," he replied. "You could have gone along with the act. I was more than happy to pretend to be a caring boyfriend/husband for you. Both in public and private. Shower you with praises, be the gentleman that other women would die for. But I can see that you won't change. I won, Gretchen. He lost. You're mine. When we leave this hospital, you're going with me. And you can forget having any form of freedom. Clearly, being the nice guy in this situation isn't going to help my case. So I guess I'll just have to be the bad guy." A cruel smile crossed his face as his eyes glistened with joy at whatever he was thinking. "I'm going to break you, Gretchen."

She glared at him, refusing to give him any satisfaction of fear that he was clearly aiming for. He could try, but she wasn't going to let him succeed.

"You think I can't?" he asked, reading her defiance correctly. "I have an entire lifetime to dedicate to making you realize you are mine. Always have been and always will be."

Her skin went cold at the thought of being stuck with him for the rest of her life. His fingers brushed her lips and then hair.

"You told me before that you would never kill yourself. And you and I both know that's true. You'll be stuck with me. Desperately fighting me a stupid battle because you belong to me. You've always belonged to me. You came to me."

He looked toward the door out of the corner of his eyes before returning his gaze to her face.

"Don't forget. Your uncle's life hinges on your silence. He only lives because he's your family," he warned.

He only lives because he's the only person you can use against me.

Brandon let her go and took a step back. She massaged her throat with her hand. The door opened and Jethro walked in.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, clearly feeling the tension in the room.

"Yeah, fine," Brandon said, flashing Jethro a smile as if he hadn't just shown his real side to her.

Gretchen just nodded her head. Damn him. Damn him and that stupid herb. She clenched her jaw, fighting with her inner feelings of frustration and hopelessness.

Gods. You're being such a baby right now. He can threaten you all he wants. But he's scared of you. He knows you'll never be his. He's desperate.

The problem was, desperate people did desperate things.

"Son, could you get us some food? What are you feeling like, Gretchen? Pizza?"

"Sure," Gretchen said with a shrug of her shoulders. What the fuck could she do? For now, nothing. She tilted her head to one side and grimaced. But, she'd gotten off the pill they gave her before without anyone noticing. It may take some time. She would probably be subjected to things she didn't want to do. But, he wasn't always going to be on guard.

The thing was, Brandon was arrogant. He would slip up. He would eventually lower his guard. Lower it when he thought he'd broken her. It would take some time though. He wouldn't believe her if she suddenly loved him.

Dammit. Why couldn't she have been a seductress?

"There's a mom and pop pizza place down the street. Why not order us a couple of pies? Pineapple and onions on one."

Gretchen felt a smile tug on her face. Her favorite type of pizza. Her uncle was trying to make her feel better. It was a nice thought.

"Sure thing, dad," Nathan said.

She frowned. His voice sounded just a little bit off to her. Gretchen looked up to snap a glare at Brandon. He wasn't looking at her, his focus remained on Jethro for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. Her frown deepened. Brandon? Nathan's face slowly twisted and morphed into an odd combination of Brandon and her cousin. The pills were losing their effect? Her heartbeat picked up at the thought.

She lowered her eyes to the ground as Brandon turned to look at her. If that was true, she didn't want him suspecting a thing. The door closed a little harsher than it needed to, betraying Brandon's annoyance.

She heard Jethro's shoes tap on the floor as he walked to her and stopped by her side. Her eyes focused on the darkening sky. She saw the same family she'd seen earlier walking out of the street they had gone down to go to another street. From where she stood, they looked like a perfect family. Husband, wife, and two kids. They were probably laughing and having a good old time. The world was at peace without Michael.

Her mind went back to the pictures she'd seen. The poor doctor and her family. She couldn't believe Brandon. Not about that.

You don't know Michael, Dr. Loomis's words repeated in her mind.

But I do know he could have killed her when I was there. He didn't. It doesn't make sense. The only thing that made sense was Brandon had killed her and tried to pin the murders on Michael. Perhaps hoping to finally win her over? Was he capable of that?

Yes. Those eyes he had showed her moments ago betrayed him.

"How are you feeling?" Jethro asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders, refusing to look at him. "Alright, I guess," she said. She tapped her fingers on her skin. Her brain mulled over all the information she'd received. So much to figure out and she felt as if she didn't have a lot of time. She felt it. The slow lifting of the fog in her mind. She couldn't let them know that the pills were losing their effect. Not until she found a way to rip Brandon out of her cousin without killing Nathan.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I don't feel like talking." As much as she wanted to trust her uncle with the truth, she couldn't. What if he didn't believe her? No, he would believe her. He wouldn't side with her psycho ex-boyfriend's ghost. But, how could he help? Maybe her uncle could get rid of the ghost. Maybe, but should you really risk it? She internally sighed. No. She couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk losing the last person who knew her. The last person who cared.

Secrets? Fuck! She hated secrets and now she was going to keep this from him. Because that was the right thing to do, wasn't it? She was alone in this battle.

Her heart dropped at the sudden feeling of loneliness. She never noticed it before. Her own loneliness. Her uncle and cousin loved her, of that she had little doubt. But both, in their own way, still kept her just a little too far, not quite arm's length but might as well be. Jethro with his secrets, both encouraging her to embrace who she was, while also deliberately keeping important pieces of information from her.

Nathan and she were a little bit closer, till one day they weren't. Now she understood why. This was what she told him would happen, wasn't it? That a ghost would take over his body. Did she see him rape her? See her beg for help? Possibly. She probably would have. Not now though.

Gretchen clenched her fists in determination. Even if Brandon managed to have his way with her, she was going to fight him. She wasn't going to beg for mercy. She fought Michael at first. Brandon… well… she was never going to stop fighting him.

Michael.

He had to be the one to not make her feel alone. Brandon didn't have that. What he had was her looking forward to that specific vision. She latched onto him because she couldn't wait for that moment, but she still went home alone after their dates. Hell, she may have mentioned him in passing, but never sat down to tell her family she was dating someone. She convinced herself it was because she was afraid they'd chase him away. She never bothered showing off her art to him because she didn't think he'd care. He made her feel self-conscious about her body, why show him even more of her interests? He clearly wasn't the one. She should have known from the start. Would Michael have cared about her art? He did seem a little bit intrigued, but there hadn't been time to properly explore that.

Time.

Gretchen took in a deep breath and shakily let it out.

"They said you were cursed," Jethro finally said, cutting into her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes. "Cursed because I'm a woman? One of the few who are born into the family?" She did feel cursed in a way. Cursed to be unhappy, to forever be alone. She looked up at her uncle. His face was void of any emotion.

"Do not interfere," he continued. "The family rule. There are consequences, I was warned. You would bring about events that would lead to the death and destruction of our house. They said all we had to do was let your powers kill you. They said it would be better for all of us, including you."

She let out a deep sigh. "I guess they were right, weren't they? Killed my parents. Fell in love with a serial killer. I-" pushed a ghost to possess my cousin. She shook her head.

"Your parents would still be alive if your father hadn't acted so rashly," he said firmly. "He was an idiot. Your mother died because you had no idea what was happening. She didn't blame you. Before she died she told me to take care of you. Protect you. And I failed."

She swallowed, trying to force the lump down that was starting to develop in her throat.

"You and the other women in our family share two things in common. Two things that have always gone against you. I should have told you before. Prepared you," he said. He paused for a moment, meeting her eyes. "Your power and love."

Gretchen looked at him startled. Jethro shifted his stance.

"There are always two who come for you. Two men drawn or bound by fate. One, your soulmate. The other, a rejected suitor. The history goes way back. A legend. An evil man, a killer, his dark soul and possessive nature always searches for her, for you. He kills anyone in his way and does whatever he has to do even going so far as killing her if he can't have her."

Gretchen gulped. That almost sounded like Michael. She could see him killing anyone he thought was a threat keeping her from him. Hell, she could even imagine him killing any previous boyfriend she had if she told him about any other man she'd been romantically involved with. Maybe he would have killed Brandon's parents. Would have, but he didn't. He was possessive. He was a killer. And to the rest of the world, he was evil.

And he would never kill you.

"We have had an entire branch of the family killed off when they interfered. Your father and I grew up being told if we had a girl it would be better to let her die. Let your visions drive you to madness because it was a better death than what awaited you if he ever got to you. Your soulmate never has a chance against this man. But then you were born. Your mother refused to believe that the things we were told were completely true. People have reasons to lie and manipulate the truth. So we went against the family rule. We weren't sure what they would do if they found out, so we worked hard to keep it a secret. That's why we didn't tell you anything then. You were a kid. You didn't have a filter. And, I didn't tell you anything after your parents died because I was unsure."

Jethro ran his fingers through his hair looking uneasy. "Honestly, I thought it was just going to be visions. No one mentioned you could do anything else, not even-" He paused and shook his head. "I'll get to her in a moment. You scared me. I will admit, I did worry that maybe the family was right and I'd fucked up. What you do isn't natural. And in the wrong hands-"

"Wrong hands?"

Jethro turned away. He picked up his briefcase and set it on the bed. Opening it, he placed his hand on a paper. He froze as if he was rethinking his movements. With a sigh, he pulled it out and handed it to her.

It was old and severally creased as if someone had crumpled it up and tried to throw it away multiple times.

"Michael," Gretchen said softly as she looked at the drawing on the page. It was just his mask with a hint of his neck. Not much detail and rather simplistic, compared to the one she had drawn over a week ago. Not that his mask had much detail to being with. One of the drawings she'd made when she was a kid, apparently.

No eyes. I guess I needed to see them first.

"When you drew that, Michael was in the news. Your father asked about him but you refused to answer. He thought you were afraid. Michael was out there somewhere and your father was worried he'd show up any day to take you away despite your age. I think." Jethro paused. "I'm not entirely sure. But I think you may have shown your father you could do more than have visions because he started getting scared of you. I didn't understand it at the time. But he spent more time with you than your mother did."

She nodded. She knew in typical households it was the father who was always gone. In her case, it was her mother. But, if she did show she could do more, she didn't remember it.

"The reason why your mother was gone so much was because she was looking for something to help you," Jethro continued as if he read her mind. "Her family disowned her when she showed her interest in the occult as a kid. Very Christian. It was a taboo subject in her house. She came here fearing for her life when she refused to change her mind. When she had you, well it just confirmed what she believed. She delved into that world looking for a way to help you. And she did. She found that herb that you were taking."

She frowned. Were? For some reason, her brain picked up on that word.

"Even though she found it, she didn't want you to permanently take it. She saw it as a tool to help dampen your powers. To help you learn to better control them. Your visions. But your father wanted a more permanent solution. I'm not trying to get you to hate your father. He was flawed and scared. He attacked you because he feared what would happen to you if you were taken. Having kids with a killer? Damn idiot. But, he started to think we were dooming the world." Jethro let out a deep sigh.

"I should have seen it coming. It makes sense. You can see future events although you can't control them. But, what if you could? What if he forced you to help him, make sure he was never caught. The world would never be safe from him."

If that were true, I would have been able to save him. I would have seen his death coming, she thought. She clenched her jaw. All she saw was a mark that was supposed to be on her face. A mark that was now gone whenever she looked in the mirror.

Jethro pulled out a book from his suitcase and handed it to her. She frowned as she took it from him.

"The family has kept items belonging to each of the women. Mementos. Warnings. When your parents died I dug in deep, searching for all the information I could about them, about you. Gwyneth's diary. She was born at some point in the 1600s. A lot like you. Very sweet, very optimistic, and completely in love."

Gretchen carefully opened the book.

"It's a copy. I have the original safely stored at home," he reassured her. "She's the only one, other than you, who managed to live into their twenties. She was twenty-one before she was killed." He paused and moved to stand by her side and look out the window. "There was only one witness who recounted the tale. Her brother. He ultimately died from his wounds a year later. The family had been looking for her. She went missing five years prior. They knew who had her. A man who was known in the area as a merciless killer. Ruthless. Uncaring. The people feared him. He was the wrong man. By the time they found her she didn't want to go back with them. We call it Stockholm syndrome now. Of course, they didn't know it at the time."

Gretchen rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure why.

"Her brother claimed, that when it was clear she was going to go back with her family her husband, I guess you can say lost his shit. Her family had brought a group with them to help bring her back and he turned them into a mob. Claiming she was a witch. Her brother tried to stop them, but a mob did what a mob did best and burned her as a witch. From there it was apparently a bloodbath."

Gretchen gulped. Her skin prickled as she felt heat wrap around her body. A woman's pained-filled scream echoed in her mind. Her own of her past life? That would explain the rush of past images she had gone through when she was losing her mind. Screams, and voices of people she knew but didn't know.

"Huh," she said. She stared at the book. It would be interesting to read the woman's words. Was she taken against her will? Did she suffer from Stockholm syndrome? Or was this evil man the one she realized she was supposed to be with?

"I have a feeling," Jethro said, interrupting her thoughts. "That you'll find some things in common with her."

Stockholm syndrome? "As in-"

"As in history and the stories we're told are written by the survivors. When you told me you were going to stay with Michael I decided to look back at her diary. I had it in my head, going in the first time I read it, that she probably had Stockholm syndrome."

"Now?"

He didn't answer, studying her for a moment. "Now I think we have a lot more to talk through. A lot more to figure out." He stuck his hand into his pant pocket and pulled out his keys, handing them to her.

She took them, giving him a look of confusion.

"I've left a condensed version of our family history along with some possibly relevant items in the car. I took you off that damned herb the moment I got here. But, it might take a bit to leave your system."

Her eyes widened with surprise.

"I know he's not Nathan. The last time you went off that herb you had a vision when you were alone with Nathan. He told me why you attacked him. You almost killed him, but it wasn't him you were fighting. You told him he wasn't who he claimed to be. I think you told him other things. Things he didn't want to tell me. He just wanted me to know that at some point he might not be himself. Whoever that is, I know he's not Nathan. You're not safe here. Not with him around. You need to get stronger. Figure out how to use your powers. I'm sorry I stifled you. I shouldn't have. Should have really embraced who you are like your mother wanted us to. But we can't go back in time. I'm going to start correcting my mistakes. And the first thing is getting you out of here and away from him."

"But-"

"No, Gretchen," he said firmly, shaking his head. "I fucked up. I fucked up big time. He may have threatened my life to make you compliant, but I'm a grown man. You don't need to protect me. I can handle myself."

She slammed into him as she hugged him, causing him to gasp at the force she used. He squeezed her for a brief moment before pushing her back.

"Okay, we need to go. He'll be back soon. I want you at least out of this building before he returns. I parked the car by the front door. As close as possible."

She nodded her head. She gave him one last quick hug before the two of them walked out of the room.

"I thought you were up to something," Brandon drawled the moment they stepped into the hallway. Both of them froze. Brandon leaned against the far wall. His eyes focused on Gretchen. Jethro stepped in front of her and squared his shoulders.

"We're going on a walk. Just the two of us. We have a lot we need to talk about," he said.

"Sounds good, pops. I'll join ya. I think I need to learn more about our family history anyway," he said as he pushed off the wall. He flashed Jethro the most Brandon of smiles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two officers move in. Her heart picked up.

Brandon dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes with a loud thud onto the hallway. His hand pressed against his cheek as he shook his head.

"Gretchen! Go!" Jethro shouted. He'd surprised Brandon with a rather hard punch, apparently.

Don't die. Her flight instincts kicked in. She ran. As much as she wanted to stay and fight. As much as she wanted to kick Brandon's ass, she wasn't strong enough. The haziness in her mind was still there, although it had let up a little bit. Not enough, still need more time. She could only hope and pray that he wouldn't kill her uncle in revenge. Hope that Nathan would be able to keep his father relatively safe.

"Gretchen! Get back here!" Brandon shouted.

She didn't look back, turning down the first hall she came across.

"Hey!" Two more officers ran at her from that end of the hallway. She spun around and ran. The elevator door dinged as it opened. An invitation to get inside. She threw her body at the door to the stairway. Using the elevator was an extremely bad idea. They could stop it and trap her.

Car. Car.

She flew down the stairs, practically running into a man. His fingers grabbed at her, but she pushed away, somehow slipping by. Her mind focused on one thing. Freedom. She just needed to find her uncle's car and then just drive. Where? Didn't matter. She didn't have time to think about that. She just needed to get away.

"Get back here you, bitch!" A man yelled down from the floor she came from.

Yeah, because that will get me running back to you.

Somehow, she managed to reach the bottom floor without tripping or falling, despite having skipped as many steps as possible. To her amusement, one of the officers wasn't so lucky as she heard him cry out and fall down a set of stairs.

One down, who knows how many more to go.

Gretchen threw open the main floor door and rushed into the main hallway. Her eyes spotted Dr. Loomis, who sat in his wheelchair by the front desk. Michael's mask, in an evidence bag, was set on his lap. She so desperately wanted to grab it and take it with her.

No. She needed to focus. She'd think about Michael later. Front door! Car! Dr. Loomis couldn't stop her.

A body slammed into hers, dropping her onto the ground. Her world went black for a brief moment as her head exploded with pain. Her whole body cried out with pain. She groaned as she tried to get her mind to focus again.

"Yeah, that's not happening," a man growled. Hands grabbed her as they tried to stop her from fighting back.

Fight.

She weakly struggled against him. Her mind and body did their best to recuperate from the tackle. Another set of hands joined the first, lifting her to her feet. Clothing wrapped around her arms, making her frown.

No. They were putting a straitjacket on her.

"Let me go," she screamed as she kicked her legs out and rolled her body in an attempt to get away. Perhaps slip under the jacket before it was fully on.

"This is for your own good," one of the men said.

She was too late. The two men tightened the straps of the straitjacket, forcing her arms to wrap around her. Her skin grew hot as rage brewed inside of her. They had no right to touch her. No right to confine her. She wasn't under arrest. She shouldn't even have had to run in the first place. But that son of a bitch wouldn't let her go.

Gretchen screamed in anger, demanding her head clear. Fuck them. Fuck the world. She glared at one of the men. She recognized him. He was part of the group who came to her home and killed Michael.

"Fuck you. Suffer a-" A cloth was pushed into her mouth and the man quickly clamped his hand over it. She couldn't spit it out. That was the bad thing about her power. She needed to speak. Hot tears streamed down her face.

"Stop fighting you stupid, bitch. Hey! Get something to calm her down. Now!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a female nurse run toward her with a needle.

No. If they knocked her out, there was no telling where she would end up. The men were clearly working with Brandon. There was no way they weren't. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure what she could do. There was no exit, no escape. She'd tried. She'd failed.

The world around her seemed to slow down as if she were in a movie. Her heart went from rapid pounding to more steady beats as her eyes landed on him.

Michael.

Nobody noticed him. But then again, how would they? He was a ghost after all. She knew that. But, he made her feel more at peace with whatever fate had in store for her. He'd be there, giving her his ghostly strength.

Her eyes stung with tears. Perhaps this was a good thing. Him being a ghost. Michael could have a one on one with Brandon now that they were on equal grounds. She would rather Michael haunt her than Brandon. And Michael would win, without a doubt. He was a killer in life, he would be a killer in death too.

Her fingers itched to run through his short brown hair again. Gods. He wasn't wearing his mask! He wasn't wearing it because it had been taken from him before he was killed. He still wore his same old clothes, dark patches stained his coveralls. Blood? Probably. His right hand clutched his butcher's knife with blood dripping down the blade and landing on the floor. Could the ghost hurt flesh and blood? He could probably possess someone. If Brandon could do it so could Michael.

The female nurse stepped into view and in front of Michael's ghost.

Gretchen watched as his big hand reached out. This next part was going to suck. Her heart dropped as she fought the tears from spilling, still struggling against the two men who held her. She was going to have to watch him realize he couldn't hurt anyone. At least, not yet.

The woman let out a startled cry as she was pulled back. Michael spun her around and then lifted her up by her throat and buried his knife into her chest. She let out a cry of pain and surprise. Everyone froze. Pulling the knife back out, he slammed it back into the nurse. Her body went slack.

Michael callously tossed her body to one side. She landed with a loud thud on the ground.

"Oh shit," one of the men said.

Gretchen's eyes widened. Michael stared at the nurse's body for a moment, cocking his head just a little. Then he raised his gaze and locked eyes with her.

Let the world bleed.

Chapter 44 - Halloween

#michael myers x oc #smut #horror #noncon tw #slashers #fanfiction #michael Myers fanfic #tw noncon

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