#( pull yourself together - sinclair )
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angelbarelywritesslashers · 8 months ago
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♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is
your first time (part 2)
♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)
♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer
♡ reader; gender neutral
♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements
♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear
these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies
‱┈‱‱✩ ❀ ✩‱‱┈‱
Jason Vorhees
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> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason
> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.
> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.
> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact
> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced
He’s repressed, not stupid.
> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs
> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”
> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved
 he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name
> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again
> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.
> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly
> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him
> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“
> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer
> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling
> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again
Bo Sinclair
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> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes
> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”
> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”
> “Top three then-“
> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins
> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner
> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much
> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”
> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you
> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you
> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“
> His dirty talk gets you both off
again, and again, and again

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore
> “Fine, fine
we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”
Vincent Sinclair
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> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex
> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.
> He let’s you make the first move
> 
or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while
> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes
> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you
> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.
> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him
> You giggle again “
wanna go all the way?”
>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours
> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close
> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out
> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath
Danny Johnson
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> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally
> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves
> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that
> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“
> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout
> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea
Those usually don’t end well
> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.
> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before
> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass
> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him
> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner
> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him
> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him
> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show
> At least until he’s about to cum
> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other
> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”
> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection
> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though
you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them
Billy Lenz
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> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.
> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling
> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“
> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously
> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited
> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?
> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage
> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance
> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating
> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you
> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“
> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants
> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly
> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once
> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much
> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once
> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you
> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm
> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning
Hannibal Lecter
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> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient
> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward
> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)
> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch
> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”
> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches
> “
darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but
”
> “But what my love?”
> “Can you pretty please touch me?”
> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth
> Of course he wants, needs to taste you
> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet
> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time
> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again
> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working
> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it
> “Good puppy
Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”
> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside
> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him
> What a good pet you made

Bubba Sawyer
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> Bubba is so scared of sex at first
Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.
> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”
> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you
> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.
> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!
> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”
> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?
> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”
> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.
> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.
> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.
> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position
> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too
> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”
> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful
> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.
> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning
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not-neverland06 · 1 year ago
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Bad Day
part two
Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.
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“Hey, what’s that noise?”
Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”
You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 
You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 
“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 
“What’s going on?”
“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 
“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”
You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?
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Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 
“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”
“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”
Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, “I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 
There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”
“Ally-”
She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 
Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 
You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”
You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 
At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.
“Y/N, wait!”
You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  
“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 
You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 
You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 
You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 
You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”
You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”
You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”
The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 
“Anyone need a hand?”
Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 
He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 
He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”
You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 
“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”
The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”
You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”
He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 
“I could give you a ride.”
You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”
He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”
You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 
You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”
“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 
The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 
You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 
You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 
“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 
“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”
You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”
“Maybe Bo could fix it.”
He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”
You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 
You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 
“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”
You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”
He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”
Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”
He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 
You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”
You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”
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You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 
“Hey, up there.”
“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”
“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 
You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.
“Maybe there’s someone in there.”
You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”
He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 
God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 
“Y/N, what the hell?”
“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 
You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 
But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 
To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 
“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”
Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”
The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”
Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”
Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 
“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”
“Y/N-”
“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 
Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 
You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”
You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 
You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”
He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”
You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”
He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”
You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 
You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 
“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”
”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 
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You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 
Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 
You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 
“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”
You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 
“Do you work here?”
Nothing. 
He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 
He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 
You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 
“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”
God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.
He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 
TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 
Please just be extremely socially awkward. 
“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”
He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 
But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 
Vincent
“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 
You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 
“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”
Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”
Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”
“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”
You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 
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Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 
He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 
“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 
It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 
“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”
Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”
You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”
He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”
You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 
You really needed new friends. 
You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”
“Any of these look right?”
You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”
“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 
You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”
“Two and a half!”
You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 
His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”
“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 
Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 
“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.
“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 
“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 
Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 
You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 
“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”
“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 
You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”
He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 
You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 
This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”
“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 
He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”
Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 
“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 
“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”
Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”
“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”
Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”
“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”
He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 
Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 
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“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”
You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”
“Well, how long you been friends?”
“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”
“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 
“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”
You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 
“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 
“Yeah, no one.”
“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”
Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 
“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”
Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”
You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 
“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 
“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”
”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”
”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”
He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”
You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 
You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 
You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 
You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 
Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 
Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.
There could be plenty of explanations. 
He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 
He liked to dabble in drag. 
He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 
You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 
Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 
It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 
There were only so many things you could ignore. 
A blood covered claw was not one of them. 
You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 
This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 
You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 
Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 
“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 
Nothing.
You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 
“Y/N?”
You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 
The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 
“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 
“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 
You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 
But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 
You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 
“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 
“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 
“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”
He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”
”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.
His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”
You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 
His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 
“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”
”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 
But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 
Tear you apart right here in the street?
Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?
You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 
You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 
You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 
You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 
“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 
“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 
A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 
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Nine Inch Nails. 
That’s what you could process when you woke up.
The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 
You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 
You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 
Fuck my life
Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 
You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”
“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”
Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”
Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 
“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 
He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”
You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”
He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 
“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 
Now, your wrists. 
Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 
You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 
You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 
You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 
You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 
You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 
Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 
You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 
You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 
You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 
Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”
You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 
You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 
You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 
Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 
Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 
You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 
You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 
Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 
Shit, that hurts. 
You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?
You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 
Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 
You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 
BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY
You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 
Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.
Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.
There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 
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You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”
You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 
“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 
Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 
“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 
You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.
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“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 
Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 
You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 
You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.
Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 
But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 
“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 
“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 
You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”
You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 
You didn’t think you enjoyed it.
Didn't want to enjoy it. 
But you dug the blade in. 
He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 
You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 
“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”
You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”
He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 
Part two
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end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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calmcoldevening · 11 days ago
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Slashers x reader who loves to slow dance with them?
Slashers x reader who loves to slow dance with them
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Vincent Sinclair
‱ Vincent loves these little moments of tenderness between the two of you, and they are very precious to him, no matter what his reaction is.
‱ Every time you decide to have a "dancing night" with him, he carefully prepares his workshop for it. He clears the space, moves the tables, and puts the room in order. There are beautiful new candles are placed around the room, and light classical music plays on the radio.
‱ You are always beautiful, but in these moments, you look absolutely magical. In a light suit/simple dress, you look like a work of art to him. He also changes from his usual sweater and apron to a shirt and trousers.
‱ The man gently offers you his hand, leading you to the center of the room. Your hand is in his, and his other hand is on your waist. He guides you gently and tenderly, allowing you and yourself to enjoy the moment. His mind is filled with your pleasant scent and the warmth of the room.
‱ At first, his movements were stiff and almost awkward. With time and practice, he has learned to feel the rhythm and lead you more gently in the dance.
‱ His hands are gentle and soft, as if he is afraid of breaking you. Only you notice how his fingers tremble on your waist, as if he is touching something precious and divine. And indeed, he is.
‱ After such a pleasant session, you spend the night outside, enjoying the beautiful starry sky. Before leaving, he will surely pull you into a gentle kiss.
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Bo Sinclair
‱ Bo loves your full and undivided attention, so if he has to dance to get it, he'll dance.
‱ His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close and possessively. He moves slowly, wanting to savor the beauty of your moment together. It's almost cute.
‱ He nuzzles into your hair, enjoying the scent of your perfume and the shampoo he loves. One of his hands is on your waist, while the other gently strokes the ring he gave you during your last dance. A neat silver ring with an intricate red stone in the middle. You may not have noticed, but there's a calligraphic "Always" written on the inside of the ring.
‱ Bo holds you so close that every breath you take, every soft laugh, resonates in his own chest.
‱ "Did you think I couldn't dance? Babe, I can do anything in this world." Yeah, anything but be humble.
‱ When the music ends, he plays it over and over again until your legs start to hurt. He doesn't like these tender moments to end so soon.
‱ At the end, when you're both tired, he just stands close to you, and you sway gently to the music without making any sudden movements. He just wants to be with you for as long as possible. The sweet silence feels fragile, and his inner demons are finally silent.
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John Kramer
‱ John doesn't dance. At least, that's what he thinks. Reluctantly, he takes your hand and steps into the center of the living room in your shared apartment.
‱ His movements are precise and sharp, like the finely tuned mechanism of a new trap. He quietly mimics your movements, moving in time with the music that he considers foolish. He's not interested.
‱ His voice is raspy, "Life is too short to waste on such frivolities." You scofe, "Life is too short not to enjoy every moment, no matter how silly it may be." And at that very moment, something clicks in his head, and the puzzle finally falls into place. He made the right choice.
‱ As time passes and he practices, his movements become softer and less deliberate, more refined. It's as if he's finally letting himself flow with the river of music. And you can't help but be delighted by his success.
‱ One day, he even catches himself looking forward to another evening like this. Then he realizes that he wants to make this moment more special for you, he wants to show you that he cares. And then he takes you to a restaurant, where later you dance in the middle of the hall.
‱ If he gets tired during such a dance (illness makes itself known), he just sits on a chair and continues to hold your hand, watching you dance beautifully in front of him like some kind of magical fairy.
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Hannibal Lecter
‱ For Hannibal, dancing is as much an art as cooking. It's a process that requires effort, time, and most importantly, passion.
‱ The evening begins with a glass of white semi-sweet wine, and soon, he gently leads you in the middle of a large room. His movements are soft yet precise, like the strings of a violin. He feels the music in every fiber of his being.
‱ "You are beautiful in motion, my love. It's a shame that not everyone can appreciate it." his smile shines predatory.
‱ He has a keen musical taste, so he always carefully chooses a tune for a certain evening to convey his feelings for you.
‱ Hannibal really likes that his partner has the same high sense of choosing a dance and good musical taste. Perhaps you are his main outlet after a whole day of being in a soulless hypocritical society.
‱ He has known your size and your tastes for a long time, so he occasionally chooses suitable dresses/suits for you before such an event. He leaves them in your shared bedroom and asks you to look in before dinner. He really enjoys these exquisite moments filled with your shared unspoken feelings.
‱ He really enjoys the way you move to the music, like a delicate butterfly teasing a hungry spider with the beauty of its wings. It gives him a pleasant thrill in his heart.
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creepswrites · 9 months ago
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Hi, I just read your hcs about reader struggling with anxiety and depression, it was really great! I am also sorry you're going through tough times rn, I really really hope you'll feel better soon. Tbh I've been going through something myself and reading the Sinclair brothers' hcs, it reminded me of an idea I've wanted to eequest for a long while. I would like to request for the Siclair brothers (separately) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader struggles with mental health issues, but since they don't really leave Ambrose they can't get to their medication. How would they approach the brothers about it, would they hide it, how would the brothers react, you know.
Of course you can work on this when you feel like it, if you're not feeling like it with what's going on in your life. Or scrap the idea altogether, or add whoever you want. Thank you so much for letting me get my thoughts out tho <3 You are valid. You are loved. You are seen.
thank you for the kind wishes, i do appreciate it :) i tried to keep this relatively inclusive as to what exactly reader is suffering from but some stuff may be a lil specific. and don't worry, writing helps distract me so i'm happy to do this <3
SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN! READER WHO NEEDS THEIR MEDICATION
BO SINCLAIR
You absolutely tried to hide it at first. How could you not?
Bo wasn't exactly... understanding about that kind of thing
I mean, you've seen how he acts with Vincent sometimes and thats his own brother. You don't want to imagine how he'd treat you if he knew...
But you knew the longer you went without your prescriptions, the more difficult things would get
It started small. Your moods would change randomly and very drastically - one extreme to another or you'd have trouble sleeping or oversleeping or - your least favorite - you'd lash out at one of the brothers for seemingly nothing
Bo noticed. He didn't say anything about it because he assumed that, if it was that important, you'd tell him
So when you had a full on meltdown on the kitchen floor one afternoon, he was blindsided
He had no idea it'd gotten this bad and, unfortunately, his first reaction was to get mad at you. He yelled at you, tried to get you to pull yourself together. After all, if you had been suffering, you would've told him! Right...?
It's not until your crying abruptly stops that he realizes he fucked up. You shut down on him, near catatonic as he tries to apologize
He's scared. And when he's scared, he lashes out. You know that. It still doesn't make it hurt less
The brothers agree that there needs to be regular trips made so you can get your medication. Lester offers to take you since he's the one who goes to town the most anyways
You and Bo get into an argument about it once or twice because he doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him
His heart breaks a little when you tell him you didn't think he'd believe you or would look at you differently for it
He reassures you that no, never. He totally understands the moodswings, the angry episodes you have, those things
Once you're on your meds again, you two promise that if anything major like this happens for either of you, that you can always lean on each other
Bo takes time getting there but he grows to understand you and figure out how best to help you!
VINCENT SINCLAIR
You tell Vincent pretty early on that you need medication
While you don't give him many specifics as to why, you tell him that life will be better for all of you if you keep taking them
At first he's a little apprehensive of letting you go into town so Bo goes with you to pick it up
Not because he doesn't believe you! But because he's scared you're still trying to escape
He wants to know what they're for so he's not above snooping around to read the labels
(You'd tell him if he asked but he didn't know that)
The amount you take surprises him and he tries to think about what you're like off them, in a morbidly curious way
He is, however, insistent that you're taking them consistently and without interruption. Vince makes sure you take them every day and gets on his brother's cases if they give you a hard time about it
They're not cures though. You both find that out the hard way when he finds you trembling in the corner of his shop like you were in freezing weather. The panic attack was violent and took you by surprise but Vincent holds steady
He sits with you, humming soft melodies to try and ground you
When you're ready, he hugs you and you just break down into tears. You'd never wanted him to have to see you like this, you don't want him to think you're some fragile china doll who can't take care of themself
But he would never see you like that. You explain that, while the meds make them less frequent, you're not cured completely
Things will slip through the cracks sometimes and that's okay! He'll always be there when you need him
When he catches you scratching yourself anxiously, he buys you gloves and makes sure you keep your nails short
He catches you picking at your face and gets you small bandages you can place over the spots so you don't obsessively pick
Vincent is always doing little things to try and improve your quality of life, even if you're taking medication!
LESTER SINCLAIR
You don't really tell him but you also don't hide it from him either
He notices you taking pills every morning and every night and is able to put two and two together
Probably asks you what they're for once you two have been dating for a bit but it doesn't really change much in your relationship
He's relatively chill about it though and offers to take you into town to pick up your meds
Likes to hoard pills for you so you never run out - it's an irrational fear of his but you think its sweet
Whenever you get sad, Jonesy and Lester are both right there to comfort you however you need
Sometimes, when the bad thoughts get too loud, Lester catches you staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror or out windows and he worries
One night you wandered out into the woods, barefoot and freezing, just because you felt so out of touch with your own body
Everything felt fake and floaty and you just needed to be out somewhere harsh and grounding and real
You love Lester, you really do, but there, in the forest all alone, all you could think about was how empty you felt
He finds you early the next morning and he was clearly worried sick, still in his sleep clothes with just a flashlight and an anxious Jonesy
Once at home and warm from your shower, he pleads with you to talk to him about it
You finally spill about how you've felt completely dissociated from yourself, even with all the meds you're taking, and it just got to be too much
He gives you a hug and you both agree to try and find other ways to shock you back to reality that don't involve you wandering into the forest at night
Turns out, an ice cube on the back of the neck works wonders to snap you out of whatever stupor you've found yourself in!
Lester is as involved with it as you'd let him. Never ashamed or afraid to lend you a hand with anything!
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inkbitten · 3 months ago
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I'm sorry if you're too busy to write this but can I request more suggestive sinclair x reader perchance 😓🙏
SINCLAIR X READER; SUGGESTIVE. i Might write a continuation.. looks around
PROMPTS  FROM  GLOOMGLIMMER.   BLOODFIEND  READER  CONTINUATION.
   the  smoky  scent  of  the  backstreet’s  bar  still  lingers  on  yours  and  sinclair’s  clothing  as  the  two  of  you  huddle  together  in  the  cramped  bathroom  stall.  nothing  but  the  single  flickering  lightbulb  that  remains  stubbornly  lit  amongst  the  burnt  out  bulbs  reflects  your  heaving  forms  as  you  pull  from  his  kiss-swollen  maw.  you  watch,  endeared  as  his  pearly  whites  timidly  nibble  at  his  lower  lip.  you  wish  he  would  draw  blood  so  that  you  could  lick  it  away.
“if..  anyone  sees  us–”  he  begins,  and  you  shush  him  by  nudging  him  closer  to  the  stall  door.  beside  his  head,  you  see  a  phone  number  written  next  to  text  that  says  call  me.  a  shitty  prank,  you  assume.
“tell  me  to  stop,  and  i  will.”
he  doesn’t,  and  so  you  take  the  initiative  to  return  your  lips  to  his  own.  your  mouths  perfectly  mold  together;  tongues,  teeth,  and  spit.  it’s  during  times  like  this  that  his  more  passionate  side  crawls  from  the  cage  of  his  nerves.  he  bites  down  on  your  lip,  gliding  his  tongue  across  the  wound  he  creates  to  taste  your  ichor.  you’re  not  sure  whether  the  saliva  he  leaves  behind  is  his  or  yours.
“i  was  gonna  do  that,”  you  half–heartedly  complain,  a  twinkle  of  mirth  shining  within  your  eyes  as  he  stumbles  over  his  words  to  hurriedly  apologize.  it’s  always  fun  to  see  how  swiftly  emil  sinclair  shifts  from  a  being  of  primal  instinct  and  lust,  back  to  a  timid  man  who  murmurs  sheepish  apologies.
“i–  i..  you  still  can?”  he  meekly  offers,  a  faint  pink  stretching  across  his  countenance  from  the  apples  of  his  cheekbones.
upon  gaining  his  permission,  you  do  not  bother  with  wasting  even  a  second  of  time.  the  way  you  eagerly  lunge  for  him  causes  an  aroused  startle  to  jerk  his  body.  you  bite  down  on  his  lip,  and  he  whines  into  you.  you  bite  down  into  the  suppleness  of  his  lips,  but  you  don’t  stop  there.  your  teeth  and  mouth  travel  across  the  faint  line  of  his  jaw,  down  to  the  top  of  his  neck.
sinclair’s  breathing  quickens,  a  warm  tingle  left  behind  wherever  you  had  been  kissing  and  biting  just  moments  before.   please,  please,  please..   reaching  a  hand,  you  begin  to  slip  the  tips  of  your  fingers  beneath  his  waistband.
KNOCK,  KNOCK,  KNOCK.  sinclair  jumps  away  from  you,  while  you  stand  in  the  stall  unfazed by  the  pounding  on  the  door.
“THE  TWO  OF  YOU  HAVE  BEEN  IN  HERE  LONG  ENOUGH!”   shouts  none  other  than  outis. you wonder if she was the only one, or if sinclair will be red-faced in front of everyone back at the table.
“pity,”  your  murmur  to  yourself.
  oh,  well.  there’s  always  time  to  go  further  when  everyone  goes  to  sleep  tonight.  sinclair’s  on  nightwatch  duty,  isn’t  he?
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rachelsfav-queer · 11 months ago
Text
Enid: Wednesday? Are you sure this is a good idea?
Wednesday: I’m afraid we don’t have any other choice, mi loba. I refuse to lose you to that wretched woman’s bigotry.
Enid: *nods* You’re right. If she can’t accept me as who I am, then she doesn’t deserve me at all. It’s just
 what about my dad? I know he’s not perfect but
 he’s a good man and he’s always loved me unconditionally. I feel bad breaking his heart like this. He’ll think it’s his fault.
Wednesday: It is deeply unfortunate that he will have to suffer this loss. Perhaps
 in due time, we can find a way to contact him. But you know that we cannot risk you being revealed and the police will undoubtedly be investigating any possible threads. It’s too risky right now, Enid
. I’m sorry.
Enid: Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for anything, Willa. After all, I would never be able to pull this off on my own. And werewolf runaways never really last. It’s better to be fake dead than really dead. Thank you, baby. You’re saving my life with this.
Wednesday: Enid, if you only asked, I would’ve taken on your entire pack on my own, if it meant you got to live your life true to yourself without fear. Trust me, this is nothing compared to the things I would do for you.
Enid smiles and blushes a bit. She steps forward and kneels down, her smile turning somber, the whole moment bittersweet as she leans forward and presses a small kiss to the headstone before standing back up.
Enid: *quietly* Goodbye, Enid Sinclair. I loved being you, but it’s time to move on. I’ll miss you
Wednesday: Have you decided on your new name yet?
Enid: *smiling brightly* Yeah, actually! Iris! I know it’s a bit on the nose, but I like it. It fits better now.
Wednesday: *smiles back* Iris Addams. It suits you, mi amor. And it does fit you well, as you’ve always been the rainbow to my torrential rainstorm.
Iris and Wednesday turn and grab hands before walking away and towards their new life, together. Leaving behind the pain and the fear.
End <3
(My stupid little prediction for season 2, inspired by that photo and by @streaminn and his ducks in his discord server)
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honeyhonest · 2 months ago
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✧˖°. habituality
warnings: gn!reader, fluff and comedy mostly, reader is ADULT yuu, curse you sinclair for giving me visions again, one (1) dirty joke, not edited, this is kinda nothing just an exercise in crowyuu thought
length: not too long
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It started Sunday.
You were prone to periods of strangeness. It was symptomatic of your tenure at Night Raven College; some days, you'd be, well, you, your normal, sane self. And some days, you'd be a stranger to your friends; fits of maniacal laughter, moodiness, melancholy, a complete lack of appetite and no motivation, and a repulsion to touch and talk, that all left your friends at a loss.
This was different.
Based on your bright smile and sunny disposition, one might have assumed, from a distance, that today was a "you" day. Your head held high, you walked with a spring in your step, humming some mysterious tune. You weren't bothered by the blinding sun or the bothersome, boring tasks that the Headmage had given you the keys to the library for, which you were now loosely twirling around your fingers.
It was as if nothing could make you happier than surveying the school, first thing on a Sunday morning.
You had even asked Ace and Deuce to come along, although you usually did these things yourself; which should have been their first clue that something was horribly wrong.
"And all Saturday, too," you explain, reshelving the books that had been ripped from their beds during the last "incident" (a Diasomnia student had accidentally taken a Savanaclaw student's seat).
"I am getting better at it, though, if you can believe. It's just a matter of knowing how to pace oneself... typewriters are an amazing feat of technology!"
You finish your tangent abruptly, as if expecting a response from someone whom was absolutely not your friends.
Deuce's head bobs, and Ace pulls him back by the hair to keep him awake.
"...Anyhow, it can be- and should be- said that the students of this school could stand to learn a thing or two from the patience and delicacy it takes to master the typewriter,"
Again, you wait for a response, as if either of them had anything to say to that. Ace is checking his Magicam DMs. Deuce wipes his nose on his sleeve without thinking and then silently curses himself for it.
You clear your throat. "...Right. Well, how have you two been faring?"
"Hurmg?" Deuce gurgles, half-awake. Ace sighs.
"Do you need help?"
"Me?" you ask, shelving another volume of Encyclopedia Twistanica. "No, I'm fine."
"Then why are we here?"
You stare blankly, unblinking, as if shocked to be asked. "What do you mean? I thought you might want to spend some time together. I've been so busy lately, I..."
"All you can talk about is work," Ace says. "You need a break, seriously. Go home and take a nap, Deuce and I will finish this for you."
"Hurrg?" Deuce groans. Ace shakes him by the shoulders until he's upright.
You look between the two, a bit taken aback, but no less thankful for the help.
"If you insist, I... I'll go back to Ramshackle,"
You hesitate, still, to leave, lingering in the doorway as if your friends might beckon you back at any moment.
"Good!" Ace calls. "And, seriously! Go rot your brain on Magicam or something! Play a game, feed Grim, just, no working!"
---
It carried on to Tuesday.
The courtyard is unusually (and unluckily, for the events following) devoid of life today, the cloudy weather having driven the students of Night Raven College indoors.
Its only occupants- Ace Trappola, moaning in misery, and Deuce Spade, insistent on revising their history of magic report before taking shelter in the warm, comfortable, strawberry-scented rooms of Heartslabyul- are sitting on a stone bench.
The following voice from behind is near unrecognizable:
"Ah! You're here! I have a surprise for you~!"
Ace stiffens, as if being caught in the act of something criminal, and Deuce stiffens, as if ready to salute whichever housewarden or member of the staff had came at them from behind.
It's you.
"Prefect?" Deuce asks, picking up the pen that had fallen from Ace's loose fingers.
"You scared the crap out of us!" Ace snaps. "I thought you were Crowley or something! Geez!"
You sit between them on the bench and scowl. "Not funny. Crowley and I are nothing alike. And you shouldn't say "crap", swearing on campus like that, you'll set a bad example for the others,"
Ace and Deuce exchange a look.
"Now, who wants to hear the surprise?"
You don't let them answer, throwing your arms out into the air with a dramatic flourish. "I've got the whole week off! Isn't that wonderful!"
Ace sniffles. "...Well, good. You're really starting to freak me out. I asked Trey about you last night and he says you might be manic,"
"Manic?" you ask. "I've never felt better. I just thought if I spent my time more wisely, I might have less work to do. Of course, I'll still have to regularly check in with the Headmage-"
"Woah," Deuce says. "You just said you have the week off."
"Yes, that's right. I do,"
Ace narrows his eyes. "Then why are you still going to see Crowley?"
You give the two a confused glance, as if the thought to not see Crowley hadn't occurred to you. Ace just sighs.
"Your brain is totally fried from overworking yourself. Just take the week off, okay? No staff, no extra studies, no doing Crowley's dirty laundry. Get a hobby or something, man, this is just sad,"
Deuce nods, though his eyes are softer, and more sympathetic. "Take it easy, Prefect,"
You ponder on that for a moment, and then, with an unusual amount of flair and flourish, throw your coat out and stand.
"Very well. I will... retire to my room, for the evening," you say, as if it were some awful thing. "Alone. All alone. With no one to talk to. Or to listen to me... ah, very well, I'm going now! Goodbye! Good night! I'll see you first thing in the morning!"
Ace sighs as you drag your feet all the way inside.
Deuce's smile drops. "Do you think they're going through something?"
"I'd say something is going through them, more like it," he mutters, and then makes himself sit straighter to think. "Y'know, this isn't like when they start acting all freaky and moody."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when they get weird like that, they start acting like a stranger,"
Deuce raises an eyebrow. "And this isn't the same, how?"
"They're not acting like a stranger. We know good and well who they're acting like,"
---
"And then they all but told me to leave and barricade myself in my room!"
Crowley tsks, cradling your face in the palm of his hand, taloned fingers softly caressing your cheek.
"I'm certainly not surprised. No matter how many times I've lectured the students of this school on decorum, they're resoundingly rude! I could not count the times I've been shooed away..."
You whine. "They're supposed to be my friends, though,"
"But they're only children," he reminds you, his other hand holding your hip, readjusting your weight in his lap. "It's in their nature to be cruel. It's our job to teach them better, is it not?"
"I guess," you grumble.
He playfully pinches your side and then cups your face in both hands, holding you still so that he can kiss the side of your head without you losing an eye to the beak of his mask.
"Worry not. They're only protecting their own precious egos- I am sure they respect you just as much as they respect myself!"
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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year ago
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strangers - bo sinclair
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bo sinclair x fem!reader
summary: bo has a very rare moment of humanity
warnings: implied smut, reader is bo’s captive, stockholm syndrome, blood
word count: 0.7k
loosely inspired by this song
the busted spring of the mattress poked into bo’s back as he rolled over in bed, trying to get away from the rays of sunlight creeping through the cracks in the curtain. he tried to go back to sleep but the light refused to let him, and he surrendered, sitting upright and leaning his back against the wall behind the bed. he rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the light, before he looked over to your side of the bed at you still sleeping form. the sheets were the only thing covering you, draped lazily over your side as you lay turned away from him, your only movement being each breath you took.
he traced the bruises and indentations left behind by his teeth, leaving a trail down the side of your neck and across you shoulder. you stirred slightly, rolling over to face him but remained asleep, giving bo the chance to admire every detail of your face. your lips were bruised from his harsh kisses, dried blood caked to your mouth, and dark circles under your eyes. you’d only been in ambrose 6 months, but it had aged you nearly two years. not that you could remember how long it had been anymore.
but still, bo couldn’t help but think how young you looked; innocent. he knew you weren’t - at least not anymore. no, he had taken that from you. you were hardly the same person you were when you’d arrived in town, just asking for help with your car. all alone. a pretty young thing like you didn’t stand a chance. not for a second.
it hadn’t taken long for bo to decide he was going to keep you. after that it wasn’t long before he convinced you that you wanted to stay; that it was your idea, even. once he knew you wouldn’t try to escape (not that you could’ve if you tried) he let you stay at the house with him instead of the basement.
they were both prisons. one just had a bed.
bo thought back to that first day, that first week, that first time you didn’t flinch at his touch. the first time you smiled at the sight of him. it was over; you were his.
even if you could’ve gotten away, it was too late. you were his. he owned you.
it didn’t matter if you had a family back home, looking for you. your missing poster had started to tear from the bulletin board at the grocery store in your home town; your mother would replace it. it didn’t matter. no one would find you. the person you were was gone. a ghost, though you were still alive.
something twisted in his stomach, a strange feeling; something he didn’t recognize, like he’d eaten something off and felt sick. but it was something else entirely.
guilt.
bo sinclair, for the first time in his life, felt a shred of guilt. it lingered for only a second, disappearing as quickly as it had materialized, as your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at him. your hands reached for him immediately, and bo pulled you into his lap, letting you curl into his chest. still half asleep, you peppered kisses along the underside of his jaw before nuzzling into his neck, nearly drifting off again. see? you were happy. he decided there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.
“mornin, darling.”
“good morning, bo,” you mumbled happily. anyone who saw this scene would think the two of you were in love. he’d rewired your brain so good you thought so too.
“go back to sleep baby. you did good last night.”
last night. you lost track of him many times he’d been buried between your legs last night, barely able to string together a cohesive thought by the time he was done with you, tears streaming down your face from it all being too much.
“i did good?” you hummed, and he nodded, kissing the top of your head.
“you did so good, sweetheart. now go back to sleep,” he cooed. you mumbled incoherently as you let yourself fall asleep in his arms. “that’s my girl.”
“
yours,” you mumbled before you were asleep again. he smiled.
“mine.”
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muiitoloko · 1 year ago
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Hello you 😁 I've a really important exam to take at the end of June and it is expected from me to achieve an incredible score. Like, I have to go from level 1 to 5 (5 the best of best and hardest level of course) in only one month and I'm stress as hell, there's so much to study (and I don't know where to start) and I have to deal with a ME syndrom soooo... I just would like to be cheered up a little bit with a good fluffy story wich you have the secret. My favorite among all characters is Sinclair but I let you choose whoever inspire you (I really like our rough David and how you portrayed him in your last fic too and I also can imagine a smutty Lionel to relieve from the stress his partner)
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Title: Stress Relief
Summary: Sinclair is determined to take care of you and alleviate your stress.
Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Hey there! First off, big hugs for dealing with all that stress—it sounds like a mountain of pressure! But hey, you've got this! 🌟 Either way, consider it a stress-busting gift from me to you. Hang in there, champ! đŸ’Ș😊
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As you sat at your desk, surrounded by stacks of textbooks and notes, the weight of impending exams bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Your heart raced with anxiety, your mind a whirlwind of formulas and theories that seemed to blur together in a haze of confusion.
Just as you were about to delve back into your studies, you heard a familiar whine coming from beside you. With a weary sigh, you glanced over to see Sinclair, your boyfriend, looking up at you with pleading brown eyes, his blonde hair tousled in an endearing mess.
"Clair, please," you murmured, your voice tinged with exasperation. "I need to focus on studying right now."
But Sinclair remained undeterred, his persistence rivaling that of a golden retriever begging for attention. He nuzzled against your hand, his warmth and affection a comforting presence in the midst of your stress.
"Come on, baby," Sinclair said, his baritone voice filled with concern. "You've been studying for hours. Take a break and let me help you relax."
Despite your reluctance, you couldn't help but be touched by Sinclair's kindness. He had observed how stressed you had been in the days leading up to the exam, and he was willing to do anything to ease your burden.
With a resigned sigh, you closed your textbook and allowed yourself to lean into Sinclair's embrace, his comforting presence washing over you like a soothing balm. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he murmured words of encouragement in your ear.
"You're doing great, sweetheart," Sinclair whispered, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I believe in you, and I know you're going to ace this exam."
His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair and filling you with renewed determination. With Sinclair by your side, you felt like you could conquer anything, even the most daunting of academic challenges.
As Sinclair wrapped you in his comforting embrace, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. Despite the overwhelming stress of exams looming over your head, his presence was a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.
Sinclair's mind was already buzzing with ideas to help you relax. With a burst of energy, he jumped to his feet, his blonde hair tousled in an endearing mess as he rambled excitedly about his plans.
"Love, I've got the perfect idea to help you unwind," Sinclair exclaimed, his brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I'm going to run you a relaxing bath! I've read all about the benefits of baths for stress relief, and trust me, it's going to be amazing."
You couldn't help but smile at his infectious energy, grateful for his thoughtfulness in wanting to ease your burden. As Sinclair disappeared into the bathroom, his voice still ringing in your ears, you turned back to your textbook, intending to sneak in a few more minutes of studying before indulging in his thoughtful gesture.
But just as you were about to open your book, you heard Sinclair's voice echoing from the bathroom, his tone excited and determined. "And don't even think about opening that book, sweetheart!" he called out, his words a playful warning.
Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, your heart racing with guilt at the thought of defying Sinclair's wishes. But knowing how much he wanted to help you relax, you quickly composed yourself and called back, "Of course not, darling! I'm not even thinking about studying right now."
It was a white lie, but one you knew Sinclair would appreciate. With a smile tugging at your lips, you set aside your textbooks and allowed yourself to fully embrace the moment of relaxation that Sinclair had so thoughtfully orchestrated.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Sinclair hummed to himself as he filled the tub with warm water, adding a generous amount of lavender-scented bubbles for an extra touch of luxury. He meticulously adjusted the temperature, wanting everything to be perfect for you.
As he worked, Sinclair couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at being able to pamper you in this way. He knew how hard you had been studying, how much pressure you were under, and he was determined to do everything in his power to help you unwind and recharge.
Moments later, you appeared in the doorway, a hesitant smile playing on your lips as you took in the sight before you. Sinclair stood beside the bathtub, his blond hair tousled in an endearing mess, his brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Interesting, very interesting," he murmured, his voice filled with curiosity as he adjusted the temperature to perfection. With a satisfied nod, Sinclair called out to you, his excitement palpable in his tone. "Sweetheart, the bath is ready for you!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the bathroom as he awaited your arrival.
"Come on, darling," Sinclair said, his voice warm and inviting. "It's time to relax and unwind."
With a grateful sigh, you stepped forward and began to undress, allowing your clothes to fall to the floor in a heap as you prepared to sink into the warm embrace of the bath. Sinclair averted his gaze respectfully, giving you the space and privacy you needed to disrobe.
Once you were fully undressed, Sinclair turned back to you with a tender smile, his excitement palpable in the air between you. "Now, sweetheart, just step into the bath and let the warm water wash away all your worries," he instructed, his voice gentle and reassuring.
You nodded in understanding, your heart swelling with gratitude for Sinclair's thoughtfulness. With a deep breath, you lowered yourself into the bathtub, the warm water enveloping you in its soothing embrace as you settled in for a moment of pure relaxation.
Sinclair watched you with a soft smile, his heart brimming with affection for the woman he loved. As you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to melt into the warm water, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at being able to provide you with this moment of tranquility.
"You're doing great, sweetheart," Sinclair murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Just let go and allow yourself to be fully present in this moment of peace."
With Sinclair by your side, you allowed yourself to surrender to the calming sensation of the bath, the weight of the world lifting from your shoulders as you basked in the warmth of his love. And as you closed your eyes and let the stress of the day melt away, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had Sinclair by your side, you could conquer anything together.
As you relaxed in the warm embrace of the bath, Sinclair couldn't help but hover nearby, his excitement palpable as he watched over you with eager anticipation. He chatted animatedly about the benefits of lavender-scented bubbles and the science behind relaxation techniques, his brown eyes alight with enthusiasm.
"Did you know that lavender has been scientifically proven to reduce stress and promote relaxation?" Sinclair exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike wonder. "It's truly fascinating how something as simple as a scent can have such a profound effect on our wellbeing."
"How are you feeling, baby?" Sinclair asked, his voice soft and caring. "Are you starting to feel more relaxed?"
You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, grateful for his thoughtful gesture and his boundless curiosity. Despite his tendency to ramble, Sinclair's presence was a comforting one, and you found yourself relaxing more and more with each passing moment.
You nodded, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you leaned into his touch. "Yes, Clair," you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "Thanks to you, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."
Sinclair's smile widened at your words, his heart swelling with pride at being able to provide you with some much-needed relaxation. "I'm so glad to hear that, sweetheart," he said, his voice tinged with genuine affection. "You deserve to take a break and pamper yourself every now and then."
As you basked in the warmth of the bath, Sinclair continued to chat animatedly about his latest research findings and his plans for the future. His excitement was infectious, and you found yourself getting caught up in his enthusiasm, forgetting about the stress of exams for a moment as you lost yourself in conversation with him.
Hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as you soaked in the soothing waters of the bath, Sinclair by your side, his presence a calming influence in the midst of your anxiety. And as the evening wore on and the water began to cool, you reluctantly emerged from the tub, feeling more relaxed and refreshed than you had in weeks.
Sinclair wrapped you in a warm towel, his touch gentle and reassuring as he dried you off with tender care. "Thank you for indulging me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "I know studying can be stressful, but I'm always here to help you unwind and relax."
As you wrapped yourself in the warm towel, Sinclair's gentle touch filled you with a sense of peace and comfort. His brown eyes sparkled with affection, his chatty nature momentarily silenced by the intimacy of the moment.
You smiled up at him, your heart overflowing with love for the kindhearted man before you. "I couldn't have asked for a better partner," you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "You always know exactly what I need to feel better."
"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Sinclair murmured, his voice soft with admiration as he gazed at you with unwavering affection. "I feel lucky every day to have you in my life."
His words sent a warm rush of emotion coursing through you, your heart swelling with love for the kind-hearted man before you. Despite his tendency to chatter incessantly about his latest research findings and futuristic theories, there was a sweetness to Sinclair that never failed to touch your heart.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss filled with warmth and affection. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of the bathroom, you felt a deep connection to Sinclair, a bond that transcended words and filled you with a sense of belonging.
"I love you, Sinclair," you whispered against his lips, your voice barely a breathless murmur as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment.
Sinclair smiled against your lips, his brown eyes shining with love and tenderness. "And I love you, my dear," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "More than words can express."
With a contented sigh, you leaned into his embrace, reveling in the warmth of his love as you allowed yourself to fully immerse in the moment. Despite the stress of exams looming over your head, you knew that as long as you had Sinclair by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way.
As you stood there in the bathroom, wrapped in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. Sinclair's kindness and affection had a way of soothing your soul, easing the burdens of the world and filling you with a sense of peace.
With Sinclair by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that his love and support would always be there to guide you through. And as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the warmth of his embrace, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had Sinclair, you would always find your way back to happiness.
As Sinclair gently separated from you, his warmth lingering in the air like a comforting embrace, he flashed you a bright smile, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
You nodded, returning his smile with one of your own. "Much better, thanks to you," you replied, your voice soft with gratitude. "I don't know what I would do without you, Sinclair."
His smile widened at your words, a warm glow of pride filling his chest. "Aw, shucks, sweetheart," he chuckled, his tone playful. "Just doing my duty as the world's best boyfriend."
You couldn't help but laugh at his playful boast, your heart swelling with love for the charming man before you. Despite his occasional quirks and eccentricities, there was no denying the depth of his affection for you, and you felt truly blessed to have him in your life.
As Sinclair suggested ordering some food, you eagerly nodded in agreement, the thought of a delicious meal lifting your spirits even further. While Sinclair went to fetch the phone, you took the opportunity to slip into something more comfortable, shedding the towel in favor of a cozy sweater and a pair of leggings.
With a contented sigh, you sank onto the couch, the soft fabric enveloping you in warmth and comfort as you waited for Sinclair to return. Moments later, he reappeared with the phone in hand, his expression bright and eager as he settled in beside you.
"Alright, sweetheart, what are you in the mood for?" Sinclair asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Chinese? Italian? Maybe some good old-fashioned comfort food?"
You chuckled at his excitement, touched by his eagerness to please you. "How about some pizza?" you suggested, a smile tugging at your lips. "With extra cheese and all our favorite toppings."
Sinclair's eyes lit up at the mention of pizza, his enthusiasm matching yours as he dialed the number for your favorite pizza place. As he placed the order, you couldn't help but admire the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his determination to get the order just right evident in every gesture.
With the order placed, Sinclair set the phone aside and turned to you with a grin. "Pizza's on its way, sweetheart," he announced, his tone triumphant. "Now all we have to do is sit back, relax, and wait for the deliciousness to arrive."
You smiled at his infectious enthusiasm, grateful for his thoughtfulness and his unwavering dedication to making you happy. As you settled in beside him, the anticipation of the impending meal filling you with excitement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.
With Sinclair by your side, you knew that even the simplest moments could be filled with joy and laughter. And as you snuggled into his embrace, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of your cozy apartment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the love you shared and the happiness you found in each other's arms.
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intimacyequalsdeath · 2 years ago
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Bubz's 12 Days of Ficmas fics: Day One Decorating (Poly!Sinclair Brothers)
Hello all and welcome to my first 12 days of Christmas fic event! This is going to span from the 13th to the 24th to make 12 days even. With fics going up on both the 13th and Christmas itself. I came up with this idea back when Fictober was happening so I've been really excited to get it out to you guys, I hope you enjoy your Christmas present! <3
Notes: Minors DNI, Fluffy, no specific pronouns or descriptions of reader used. This is a Poly fic so if you aren't into that then this isn't the fic for you. SFW.
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"Oh come on Bo please!" you pleaded from your spot on the couch. Bo sighed dramatically.
"Darlin' no, It's a stupid idea. who is even gonna see it ?" Bo questioned. You had asked Bo if you and your boys could decorate Ambrose for Christmas this year and maybe even the main house too.
"You, Vinny and Les would see it! plus Les thinks it's a great idea" You argued back.
"Honey of course Les thinks it's a good idea, He's not gonna be the one who's gotta clean it up" He deadpanned.
"No the four of us would put it up together and take it down together, I promise, We could start a new Sinclair family tradition with it!"
Bo rolled his eyes at you and took another drink out of his beer as the front door swung open revealing Vincent coming back from a day at the museum.
"Vinny!" You exclaimed jumping up to hug him "Don't you think we should decorate for Christmas?" you asked him, he shrugged.
"Why?" He signed "No ones around to see it" You groaned and Bo chuckled.
"Thank you Vince, that's exactly what I said" Bo snickered from the couch.
"Vinny WE would see it though! We could start a new family tradition and actually have fun for once instead of working all the time. Lester's already on board with it and if you're with us then we outvote Bo"
Now it's not clear if your convincing worked on Vincent or he was fueled by sibling rivalry and just wanted to oppose Bo. Either way with that, he was convinced.
"Yeah sure, sounds like fun" Vincent signed to you, you grinned and hugged him.
"Thank you Vinny" You said pressing a kiss to the cheek of his mask then turning to look at Bo with a smug grin painting your face.
"It's now 3 against one Bo and the ball is in your court" You said smugly. He groaned and rolled his eyes.
"I'm the only adult in Ambrose, Ya'll 3 are children" He muttered "Fine, if you want to decorate have at it, but like you said I'm not going to be the only one taking it down when Christmas is over"
You walked over to Bo and planted yourself onto his lap for a moment to press your lips against his.
"Thank you baby" You said gratefully once you pulled apart. Bo tried to hide his grin as he wrapped his hands around your hips.
"Yeah, It's whatever"
================================================
"We look like fuckin' idiots" Bo grumbled from his spot on the ladder.
"You said it yourself Bo, it's not like anyone can see you besides us" You snickered from your spot on the ground, making sure Bo and Lester hung the lights straight.
Vincent stood next to you with a light sweater on and one in his hands just incase you needed it, despite Louisiana's lack of cold weather in the winter.
"Sweet pea does it look good?" Lester called from his ladder opposite of Bo's as they held the lights up to the roof of the house.
"Yeah it looks perfect Les" You called back, the two men nodded and started hammering the lights into the house.
"Vinny did you start making those candles I asked you for?" You asked him, He nodded.
"Yeah their almost done, just need to put the etchings in them like you wanted" He signed.
"Perfect Vinny, and we've found the old Christmas tree up in the attic right?" Vincent nodded.
"Yeah all the indoor decorations are still up there, mixed with mine and Bo's junk" He signed once more.
"Dammit Les can't you hold the lights straight!" Bo yelled sucking on his thumb from where he hit himself with the hammer.
"Sorry Bo! I didn't mean it!" Lester exclaimed biting back a laugh at his older brother's misery.
You smiled at their antics before motioning for Vincent to follow you inside to work on the Christmas tree. The boys had taken the liberty of moving the tree and a majority of the decorations into the living room for you to pick through.
Vincent helped with the heavy lifting of setting the tree itself up, while you went through all the ornaments. You smiled to yourself finding the ornaments the boys had made when they were kids.
One particular ornament caught your eye, it was a photo of all three Sinclair brothers before they were separated into foster homes. Trudy must've put it together one year before the boys were taken you figured. You didn't know if the boys would like it being on the tree as their mother was still a sensitive subject.
"Oh Jesus Vince!" You exclaimed when he suddenly put a hand on your shoulder. You could see his eye make it's way to what you had in your hand.
"Oh- i was just-" Vincent placed a finger to your mouth, silencing you before taking the ornament from you. For a second it looked like he was about to put it back in the box before he walked it over to the tree and placed it right in the middle.
He turned around to you to get your approval, you nodded at him with a smile.
"That looks perfect Vinny" He puts and arm around you pressing the lips of the mask to your forehead for a moment as the two of you gaze at the decorated tree.
The peace was disturbed by the front door swinging open.
"Bo I said I was sorry! I don't know what else ya want me to say" Lester said as he made his way into the living room.
"I want you to-, well would ya look at that" Bo stopped when his eyes landed on the tree. More specifically the ornament with the photo.
Lester made his way to the side of you not occupied by Vincent, also giving you a kiss on the head as the 2 of you waited for the oldest Sinclair to give his verdict.
"Whaddya think Bo?" You asked softly with baited breath. Bo's eyes were still glued to the picture of him and his brothers attached to that "stupid" as he would put it, ornament his mom made when they were kids.
"I-I think that maybe...Maybe Christmas ain't that bad" He finally said, his eyes tearing away from the ornament and landing on you and his brothers.
You smiled and walked over to wrap your arms around him in front of the tree.
"So can we do this every year?" You asked with a grin.
"I didn't say all that, I still wanna make sure I'm not the son of a bitch that's gotta take all this shit down" He said putting back on his facade as quick as he lost it.
You grinned at him never the less before laughing, Vincent and Lester joining you in laughing at their grump of an older brother. Though you could've sworn you saw a grin cross Bo's face maybe that Christmas miracle would have to wait until another year.
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ohnohargrove · 2 years ago
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I just imagine Vincent Sinclair would be an incredibly sweet boyfriend. Imagine that he's been caught up in his work for the majority of the day. You had all shared breakfast together at the table before everyone had to go off to do their respective duties. Lester had dropped by that morning and he had gone off to do some repairs in the movie theater, Bo had gone down to the garage to work on a particularly rusty (and "a stubbon sonafabitch" in his words) truck he got from one of his latest victims, and Vincent had hurried off to the basement workshop to start on a new sculpture for the museum. He had assured you he'd be back sometime late this afternoon.
It was now 9 PM and Lester was watching you and Bo get into a very heated game of War on the living room coffee table. Bo was on the couch, You were cross-legged on the floor with Jonesy's head in your lap, sound asleep even though there was heated cursing going on, and Lester was on the arm chair to the side of both of you. Bo threw the cards down on the table. "Goddammit! Where th' HELL do you keep gettin' those joker cards" he let out, bringing his hands up to his face. Lester and you both knew the game was basically over at that point.
You looked at the old, dusty clock on the wall and Lester noticed the look you gave when you finally saw the time. He reached into the cooler beside his chair, got up, and handed both you and the fuming man a cold bottle of beer. "Hey now," he assured, putting a hand on your shoulder, "sometimes Vince gets caught up in his work, that's all. He's always been like that ever since we were little. It's best to just let him do his thing. He'll come 'round. Promise." Bo flicked the cap off of his bottle and onto the pile of scattered cards. "Yeah, damn perfectionist probably can't get the nose right or somethin'." He took a large swig of his beer. "You gonna shuffle those cards and re-deal 'em so I can kick your ass?" You and Lester both shared a knowing look that another game would just turn him into an even bigger sore loser, but you obliged.
It was a little past 11 at that point. Lester had decided to head home after Bo lost for a second time and started pulling the silent treatment towards you. "Jonesy can have a little sleepover with you tonight" Lester said as he was getting his boots on, "she's had a rough day of running up and down the isles and knocking stuff over while I was fixin' it. I think she's pretty tuckered out." You thanked Lester and told Bo you were heading off to bed, which he ignored ("he'll get over it in the morning" you thought to yourself). You passed the basement door on the way to the stairs and still heard opera music playing from below. Lester was right, it's best not to disturb him if he's really this caught up in sculpting. You called Jonesy up the stairs and promised her that she could sleep under the covers tonight.
Light streamed into the windows and hit your face. You noticed that Vincent hadn't come to bed that night and Jonesy was now gone. You looked over at your nightstand to see what time it was, but sitting in front of the old alarm clock was a small figure obscuring it's view. You rubbed your eyes and noticed that it was a small dog sculpted from wax with a folded note underneath. You smiled as you picked the little dog up and ran your fingers over the detailed fur. You reached over to open the note and see what it said. It was somewhat dingey paper with immaculate handwriting scrawled on it.
"My dearest one, I'm incredibly sorry that I stayed out so late last night. I feel horrible that I promised you I'd be done, but time had slipped away from me and I didn't want to wake you. I'm having a particularly tough time with the face of my newest sculpture (especially the nose) and it will take longer than I had anticipated. If you'd like, you may join me for breakfast in my workshop as I finish up. If not, I should be done by noon and I mean it this time. I think Jonesy might like to play in the yard for a while. Forever yours, Vincent"
You got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen, grabbing a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator along with some butter to make toast. You planned on bringing your boyfriend some sunny side up eggs for breakfast and chatting while he finished his work. Playing frisbee with Jonesy could wait until noon so all three of you could play. At that thought, you felt a cold nose press the back of your leg and you handed the pup a slice of bread.
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socially-awkward-skeleton · 7 months ago
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Chapter 7 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World
[Also Available on AO3]
Summary: Laswell delivers intel that leaves the team dealing with a ticking clock and the risk of Soap and Ghost's lives being in danger
Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, smoking, character with trauma, established relationship, dialog heavy chapter, military inaccuracies
Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)
Word count: 2.5 K
A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV.
I always have at least one "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done chapter" and this feels like it might be it. Lot's of dialogue and characters standing around. I tried to make it entertaining, but alas, it is an infodump chapter
November 2, 2022 19:30 - Somewhere over the East Coast of the United States
Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the fuselage in flight, the soothing numbness of weighty limbs that came with the pain medication kicking in, and the bone weariness from the excitement of the past few days, Rory had barely been able to keep her eyes open. Her lids were as heavy as bunker doors, eyes rolling back until irises gave way to whites, her head lolled backwards against the headrest and she faded into a sleep deprived state of unconsciousness. 
“For what,” she asked, rubbing at her eyes, sweeping away the sandy particles that had collected in the corners, attempting to erase the glue that had adhered her fan of dark lashes together in a bid to catch up on some much needed rest. With a stretch of her legs right down to her toes, fanning out inside her boots, and a crack of her back, she forced herself to focus. “Did we land already?”
The sound of twin turbine engines roared throughout the cabin in a swell, the orchestral brass section of a vehicle built for war rumbled up through her feet and into her joints. A thunderous lullaby of bellowing white noise surrounded her as she slept like the dead until startled awake by John nudging her leg with his knee and giving her shoulder a squeeze. She blinked around the interior of the plane groggily, trying to gather her bearings. Momentarily confused and disoriented, tense, until the low husk of his murmured voice curled around her with the weight and comfort of one of his oversized sweaters, and the sweet, earthy aroma of smoke carried on his breath.
“Need you awake for this.”
“Dropped off Laswell, en route to Texas as we speak, we’ll get across the border to Mexico from there.”
“Fuck me,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Really must have been out of it, eh?”
Yanking one of the cigarettes from the pack, Rory brought it to her lips and pulled out her lighter, setting the flame on the end. “Watch your tone, Sergeant. Might just find yourself on latrine duty back at base,” she said with a smirk, closing the lid on the flame and extinguishing it. 
“You’re doing just fine, Lieutenant,” Gaz ribbed, holding out his pack of cigarettes for her, shaking them like a packet of dog treats. “Managed to go without drooling on the boss’ shoulder and everythin’.” His chuckle quickly followed by a swift elbow nudged into his side by the female member of their party.
“You wouldn't.”
“Try me,” she replied with playfully narrowed eyes, a curling half grin pulling one side of her mouth taut around the cigarette.
The sound of the CIA Station Chief’s voice immediately dragged Rory back into focus, and the mask of professionalism slipped down over her features once more, schooling them into neutrality. “Back to work already, I see.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Sinclair.” Laswell’s voice came from the laptop, voice muffled over the built-in speakers. Her tired eyes on the screen were the only thing visible as she held a mug of coffee up to her lips. 
“Always. Sorry to wake you from your catnap, but it was important you heard this as well.”
“I'm all ears.”
The clink of Laswell’s mug hitting the desk was ominous, the only sound in the silence that settled before she spoke. “Botha never arrived.”
“What do you mean they never arrived?” She pulled the cigarette from her lips and sat forward, arms resting on her thighs. “They can't have been bloody spirited away,” she snarked, gesturing with the cigarette in her hand. “They have to be somewhere.” Sitting there stunned, head falling back against her seat, Rory took a heavy breath and tried to ground herself. Eyes snapping open, she met the screen with Laswell’s visage. “Konni?”
Blinking a few times, Rory wasn’t entirely sure she was cogent enough before the words hit her like a slap to the face and she was instantly made alert at the alarming news. The cigarette jostled on her lip as she spoke, mumbling around it. “I'm sorry, what?”
“I know you sent him off with Delaney a few days back
 but they never arrived on American soil.”
“Haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”
“What do we know?” Price stepped in, taking control of the situation.
“There have been no moves made for a black box recovery, but the plane never landed. There were no distress calls made either.”
“Aerial strike of some kind?”
“I’d assume so, yeah. Likely didn’t get a chance to respond.”
Rory chewed on her inner lip, raking her fingers through her hair, the ashes at the end of her cigarette crumbling to the floor between her boots – and then it hit her. “So either Konni finally tied up that loose end
 or someone buried the lead. Perhaps whoever it was that let the American missiles land in the hands of the enemy in the first place. Missiles that no one knew were missing to begin with. If they’ve got access to weapons that were off the books, what else are they capable of?”
“They’d have to be fairly powerful to have access to weaponry and tactics like that,” Kate confirmed.
Price reared up from his seat, his glower focused on the woman sitting beside him. “You don’t think –”
“I think he’s always been a bit of a dodgy blighter – willing to fight dirty. And I think it might have bitten him in the arse this time.” She turned her attention back to the screen in John’s lap. “Kate, what do we know about Shadow Company aside from being in Shepherd's back pocket?”
“I think someone who’s able to get a task force made up of British Special Forces operatives up and running from out of nowhere is capable of anything. Just like we are.” Rory drummed a thumb on her thigh. “Not to mention he’s got his own PMC at his beck and call.”
“You think Shepherd did this?” John growled.
“Rory,” he growled out her name, something feral brewing in his stare. “If he’s willing to use whatever resources he’s got at his disposal to kill your target, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Soap and Ghost?”
“I'll do some digging.”
Slamming the lid of the laptop shut, Price’s head snapped towards Rory, a quiet fury rolling within the placid depths of his irises, moments before they would become raging storms. “What makes you think it’s Shepherd?”
“What makes you think that it’s not?” she asked, looking taken aback, surprised by his unwillingness to accept her line of reasoning.
“Because he’s got my men working for him on a mission about those fuckin’ missiles,” he snarled.
She sucked her teeth, pursing her lips, before sucking the plump flesh between her teeth and worrying at her pout. “So it’s not trust then, is it? It’s just hope.”
John was protective, he always had been, there was no denying that fact. And he was no different when it came to the lives of his men. Men he had dragged into this, men he had chosen specifically for their skills, for the trust he had in what they would bring to his team. And now that trust was being turned against him by Shepherd, a man he had been foolish enough to allow to use him as a tool in the war they were fighting, one they had been fighting for too long. 
She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the rigidity. Beating himself up in silence for believing that someone at the top might have actually had some sort of relative honor like him. That he put his life, and the lives of others as their commanding officer, into the hands of a man so ready to wash himself clean of them all made him twitch, his mouth curling with barely hidden disgust. Led astray by his own instincts, he could lose grip of just how much freedom he actually had while still acting as a cog in the machine. The herding dog pulling away from the pack to snarl at the wolves, to beat them back, taking on beasts bigger than him without fear, until returning with a bloodied muzzle, he would know that those under his protection were safe once more. 
“Because that would be absolutely reckless. Not to mention putting his own head on the chopping block. There is no way he is that foolish when it comes to cleaning up a mess like this.”
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“An animal backed into a corner goes for the throat,” Price rumbled, his voice low, dangerous. “Shepherd’s not one for complacency.” His mouth scrunched at the thought of what could happen to his men under the General’s orders. “And neither am I.”
“So we’re going in looking for a fight already, boss?” Gaz cocked his brow and glanced past the bickering couple.
“We’re looking after our own,” Price rasped, stare dead set, jaw locked tight.
November 4, 2022 00:30 - Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas
The wait for a helicopter to be refueled and made ready for flight had given them time to set up shop and ready themselves for taking on the cartel, terrorists, and the suspected – and likely– threat from inside of Shepherd and Graves. The table they stationed themselves around was littered with intel, all they had collected from Ghost’s earlier reports about Las Almas, the Los Vaqueros, and their run in with Hassan Zayani.
The three soldiers leaned over the table, planning, preparing, ready to strike, when the radio on Price’s vest chirped to life. 
“Watcher-1 to Bravo-6. Watcher-1 to Bravo-6–”
“Here, Kate,” Price said, gripping his radio tightly in one hand, while the other pressed to the table, his weight resting on it.
“Hope you’re sitting down. I got my hands on the redacted intel of the century.”
“Go on.”
“The whole reason Graves and Shadow are under Shepherd’s control comes down to finances. Looked into Shadow's origins. Didn't take long before it fell into the red. Shepherd bailed Graves out.”
“Two months ago there was a black bag operation in Al Mazrah, headed by General Shepherd and carried out by Shadow Company. They were transporting ballistic missiles to our allies fighting the Russians in the Middle East. Reconnaissance had said the route was clear – it was incorrect. They were intercepted by a Russian PMC, one we now know to be Konni, thanks to Rory’s work. They took out all survivors and got a hold of Shadow’s comms,” Kate sighed and continued. “The shipments were illegal and off the books. The entire mission buried by Graves and Shepherd. Three missiles were stolen, we’ve only found two. We need to find the last one.”
“Why would Graves be willing to shoulder a burden like that with the General, why not wash his hands of it? Come clean?” Price’s heavy brow knit together in a tight weave of frustration, moving to stand tall, back straight, shifting his weight slightly as if ready to start pacing. The energy stirring to life within him to fight.
“And made a PMC into his own personal army. Wonderful,” Rory scoffed and shook her head. “So it’s not even a question of loyalty, Shepherd outright owns him.” 
“They both got dirty and they've tried to keep it hidden. Now they're willing to do whatever necessary to make sure it stays that way. Picked up on comms chatter. Shadow's overtaken the Mexican Special Forces base in Las Almas.”
“What?” Price’s eyes flared, halting his movements instantly, his hands gripping at the shoulder straps of his vest with white knuckled strength.
“They've detained anyone who has had contact with the mission, either through the cartel or the missiles.”
“Detainment isn't a permanent solution.” Gaz’s jaw clenched, the tic of a snarled lip lasting for only a moment. “The fact that they were quick to take Botha out of the equation makes it worse. Ghost and Soap are in danger.”
“So is Colonel Vargas, my contact.”
The Lieutenant and the Sergeant were a threat to Shepherd’s goal of burying the problem he had helped create. Like nuclear waste having to be buried miles deep in clay and stone to keep the radiation from leaking out and contaminating the earth around it, it had been the General’s goal to keep this out of the light of day. So much so, he was willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater to hide the mistake he had made. 
Rory folded her arms over her chest, her one hand coming up to rub absentmindedly at the scabbed over cuts on her cheek, the last reminder of a life she had fought to save, and for what. “So we're on a ticking clock, and not just because of a lost missile.”
“There's a prison the Special Forces use. High security. If Graves wanted a place to store a problem until there was a more permanent solution, that would be a good choice.”
“Right, then we head there.” Price’s fingers pressed to the table top, splayed apart, tapping them slightly against the metal as the gears spun behind his eyes. “Kate, keep an ear on the chatter and send me the blueprints for the prison. We need to figure out the best way in before we get there.”
“Will do.”
“Bravo-6, out.”
Turning to Rory, Price’s head tipped to the side. “You still think Shepherd’s unwilling to take out our own?”
Working her jaw from side to side, her whole face pinched into an angry purse. The sour tang of bitterness was a pervasive taste that caked her tongue. “Suppose you weren't the only one holding out hope. I can't believe he'd go this far. Why burn bridges like this, make himself the enemy? It’s completely illogical.”
“Because Shepherd likes being in control,” he snarled. “He's used to working in the black like us. Sees things as winning’ and losin’, not maintainin’ allies. No such thing as loyalty with him.”
“That's a dangerous spot for us to be in then, eh? Having to rely on him
” Her words trailed off and the small crumb of fear she carried with her, and the weight of just how much Shepherd knew about them all, darkened her gaze. 
John gripped the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his body rigid, stiff as he rested her head under his chin. The sturdy force she could lean on. “We arent relyin’ on him. Not anymore,” he growled. Tipping his chin to his chest, he leaned back to look down at her and gave her nape a squeeze. “We cut ties, same way he was willin’ to deal with us.”
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mythicalcowboyatheart · 8 months ago
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Ambrose part 3
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Pairing: Bo Sinclair x reader x Vincent Sinclair
Warnings: Bo slaps reader, readers been kidnapped by them
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You slowly woke up you tryed moving but you quickly found you were strapped to a chair. Leather binds straps your arms down with duct tape secured around them for good measure. You tried moving your legs only to find they also are duct taped together. You struggled against the restraints for a while in till suddenly the door swing open reviling the tall frame of Bo Sinclair.
He walked in and slammed the door behind him with a smirk on his face. He walked towards you as you squirm around in the chair trying to free yourself. He then sat down in front of you, laughing at how helpless you look. You start to try to plead with him only to finally realize your mouth was also duct taped shut.
Bo reached forward and started rubbing his fingers through your hair making you squirm. He sat back and smiled at you saying “your going to be a good girl aren’t you?” You tried to shake your head no as he leaned forward and he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at him. “you need to listen when i speak to you” he said before grabbing your chin and looking you in the eye “do you understand me?” he asked you. You looked at him, tears slowly streaming down your face as you give him a nod of your head.
He smiled back at you and said “that’s good” before leaning back into the chair. He looked you up and down slowly as you try to make yourself as small as possible. He stood up and walked around the room. He came back with a chair that he placed in front of your chair.
He walked back behind you before he brought in another person. You tryed to turn your head to look only to have Vincent come into view. He brushed the hair out of your face with his finger you tryed to pull away from him.
He did what looked like sign language to Bo who chuckled back at him as he grabbed you chin to make you look at Vincent again. “He wanted to know if you want to try talking again or if you want to just stay like this?” Bo said. You looked back at Vincent as he stood there smirking. You give a nod of your head as Bo laughed. “Oh this is going to be fun” he said as he ripped the duct tape off your mouth.
The pain was unreal as tears streamed down your face, you heard Bo laugh. “Don’t worry you’ll be fine as long as you're good” he said. You watched Vincent as he walked back and disappeared behind you.
“So now that you can talk and be a good girl for me, what do you want?” Bo said to you. You stared at him wondering what he wanted from you. “Just let me go” you said back to him. Bo smiled back at you “I’m not that easy, what else do you have to offer me?” he asked. You sat there for a second before “I have money.” you said back. Bo looked at you for a second as he thought about what you just said. “That sounds good and all but money doesn’t mean much to us” he said with a smile on his face.
“why did you bring me here? I just wanted help with my car" you said as tears streamed down your eyes. Bo looked back at you with a smirk. "I know" he said back.
You stared at him “what do you want from me?” You asked. Bo sat there and looked at you for a bit. “i was planning on killing ya but Vincent seems to like ya so we gonna keep ya.” he said as if it’s a normal thing.
You felt like the words didn’t register at first before “No no no please just let me go” you begged. Bo leaned forward to look you in the eyes “No one is gonna find you here so don’t worry about that.” he said back to you.
He got up and walked back to the door. “You’ll be safe as long as you do as your told” he said before slamming the door behind him. You sat in the cold dark room in shock, tears streaming down your face. You knew you had to keep yourself calm and hope that someone would find you.
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calmcoldevening · 2 years ago
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I’m begging you for a part 2 of the knowing the slashers when they were younger fic where they meet when they’re older if you’re up for it ofc🙏
You knew slashers when you were a child and now you grow up and met them
Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair
TW: mention of blood, violence, stockholm syndrome.
Ps: english is not my native language, so sorry for misspells. And also i really didn't know what I needed to write about Sinclair, because i need to rewatch the movie to remember their characters, so i didn't write about them. I hope you'll enjoy our sweet Tommy and baby boy Brahms
Part one ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
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Thomas Hewitt
You just recently graduated from college and decided to celebrate it with a trip with your friends to one of the US states. The choice fell on Texas. You still had pleasant memories of your school life in this place in your heart, and your heart ached at the thought of how soon you left your hometown. Not that you would call these people friends, but you were good acquaintances and helped each other with tasks. And so you packed your bags and within half an hour you were all driving together in a small SUV. The boyfriend of one of your 'friends' (Jessica) was driving. He was a good man, although he joked about unpleasant topics from time to time. But you turned a blind eye to it. In the end, you will finally find yourself back in the good old Texas.
The road was long, so you had a lot of time to think. You were sitting in the farthest seat, staring into space and slowly stroking an old, slightly battered fox toy with your hand. Your thoughts revolved around one person. That shy little boy you had such a happy conversation with years ago. It was your first memorable friend. You no longer had friends who could surpass sweet Tommy.
Finally, the car turned at a sign with the inscription of a city you know. Your heart started beating faster and you couldn't suppress a smile in anticipation. Soon you will see him again, a sweet shy boy. Although now it will probably be a guy, after all, it's been almost twelve years. This figure was almost painful.
The Texas landscape flowed like a soft canvas on the other side of the window, the sun mercilessly burned his eyes, refracting through the glass. It was hot and stuffy. You're lucky to get into one of the hottest periods in Texas. This place has changed somewhat, although it remains the same as you remembered it. The once small plantings have now turned into real tall trees, although they did not save much from the sultry sun. The wheels of the car turned quickly on turns with an unpleasant sound, raising a cloud of dust behind them. Jessica's boyfriend, Tim, apparently loved playing racer very much, even on the main state road.
By all the laws of luck, Tim abruptly informed you that you were running out of gas. There was a gas station nearby. You entered a small diner next to the gas station, and your heart instantly warmed up. It was that sweet woman, Thomas's mom. Luda-May, isn't that right?
"Hello, Luda," you say with a slight smile, approaching the cash register. The woman looks up at you with a frown, peering at your appearance for a few seconds. Finally, recognition seemed to flash across her face.
"Y/N?" She asks dryly, her voice a little rougher than what you remember from childhood. You nod in response. A warm smile appears on Mrs. Hewitt's face and she hurries out from behind the counter, wrapping you in a gentle, almost maternal embrace. "God, girl.. I never thought I'd see you again. You've grown up so much."
"I'm so sorry that I left so quickly. It was my parents' idea, not mine."
"I understand, honey, don't worry. We've all missed you. Especially Tommy."
The mere mention of his name makes your heart ache. Tommy... You haven't seen him for so long. Your heart yearned for those beloved cornflower blue eyes. You reluctantly pull away from the cozy embrace of Luda, your hand reflexively reaches for your hair, removing a stray strand from your face when you understand the look at a woman.
"You still live there, don't you? Can I see him?"
"Of course, my girl. I've just finished. Hoyt should be arriving soon."
Hoyt? Your brain was carefully trying to find at least one mention of that name in your memory, but nothing came to mind. Strange. Although it may be one of their relatives or friends, after all, you haven't been here for too long, it couldn't have stayed the same, could it?
What was your surprise when that Hoyt turned out to be old Charlie. Although his appearance was now quite pretentious: sheriff's clothes, hat and badge. Something was wrong. This man has been lazy all his life, he could not suddenly decide to go to work in a place related to healthcare. But you chose to remain silent. Hoyt didn't seem to recognize you. When he saw your friends, he invited them to go with them, saying that he had a can of gasoline at home.
"Take the guys, and then you'll come for us. I don't think the sheriff's car can hold that many people," Luda intervened, grabbing your arm protectively. It's got you a little stressed out. Although there was some truth in her words. Five former students came with you, all of them obviously wouldn't have gotten into Charlie's car. The man wanted to say something, but gave up, nodding to the woman.
And so they left. All that time, Luda was asking about your life, enjoying listening to stories from college. She was more interested in this than your own parents. And now Hoyt is back. He was in high spirits. You got to the Hewitt house safely. As a child, as now, the building was still huge for you. Luda carefully led you into the kitchen, offering you tea. God, you've missed this place.
"Tommy! Come here, we have guests," Luda shouted and you heard hurried rustles and heavy footsteps from the basement.
It made you tense up a little bit. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a tall man, the size of an entire closet, entered the kitchen. Your blood turned cold. You slowly looked up. A long, tall body, wavy dark hair and a leather mask on his face. He frowns down at you, seeming to evaluate you with his cold blue eyes.
"Tommy?" As if nothing had happened, Luda-Mae asks in a cheerful voice, "Do you remember Y/N?"
It seemed that at that moment the gears were turning in his head. You needed time to think about it too. Was this huge man Thomas? No, of course, Tommy was a bit of a big kid as a kid, but he was still quite small. The only thing that attracted attention was his bandage on his face. Now it has been replaced by a strange leather mask.
You didn't even have time to think, as careful footsteps were heard from the basement. It seemed, but Tommy and none of the People were found at first. And Tim appeared behind Thomas. God, he was covered in blood and his back was bleeding. Your face is filled with pure horror. And that gave Tim away. Thomas notices your fear and turns around, immediately grabbing Tim roughly and dragging him back to the basement. Your brain screamed like a hunted animal that you needed to get out of here and urgently. Something has happened to this family, something bad, since they communicate with other people like that. But as soon as you tried to run to the exit, at that moment you were hit by something heavy on the back of the head.
His heart ached for you. You were the first person who ever showed him kindness in your life, and now you will surely be afraid of him. God, he wouldn't want to see fear in your beautiful eyes when you're afraid of him. His body was filled with an unpleasant feeling of disappointment and pain. He didn't want that, really. But he wanted to keep you by his side, he didn't want to let you go again. And he didn't want you to hurt the family. So now he was gently wiping the remnants of blood from your beautiful face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. You were still as beautiful, his heart began to beat faster, as it did when he was a child. He saw that toy in your friends' car, you kept it all these years. Thomas couldn't help but smile. Maybe you loved him too? Not now, not after what he did.
The following days were a blur. Your head ached, and an unpleasant heaviness tightened your neck. They put you on a chain. Thomas or Luda would check on you from time to time, Luda would just leave food, and Thomas would just sit on the bed next to you and just look at you. Sometimes he would try to touch you, but you would instantly jump aside like a wounded animal. Thomas's heart ached painfully in his chest. Although.. He deserved it, didn't he? All his life he was looked at with disgust or fear. But he didn't care about those people. All these simple passers-by or victims were just empty meat. But you were afraid of him now. He couldn't stand your gaze, full of fear for your life, so he left the room every time, unable to look in your eyes.
The days slowly followed each other. You were still afraid. But there was something else. Whenever Thomas enters the room, your eyes involuntarily glided over his big strong body. You wanted to snuggle up to him, find comfort in his arms. But there was a part of you that knew it was wrong. They killed people, they killed your friends. They chained you up and kept you here like some kind of dog. And yet your body was begging for his warmth, just like when you were a child.
What was Thomas's surprise when the next time he came into the room, you crawled closer to him, asking for a hug. Your arms clumsily wrapped around his body. Thomas blushed instantly. His heart felt so good. He gently grabbed you by the hips, putting you on his lap, and hugging your fragile body with his strong arms. He buried his nose in your hair. How he missed that feeling. His brain was filled with the scent of your skin. Thomas let out a relieved whimper as you began to gently run your fingers through his tangled hair.
He never left you, he won't let you go into this cruel world again. He will protect you with all his heart. His sweet girl.
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Brahms Heelshire
"Now I've won," the man says in a hoarse voice through his cracked porcelain mask with a doll's face.
He was breathing heavily, hanging over you, his left hand pressed against the wall behind you, while the other reached out to your face, gently stroking.
"Still beautiful," he whispers, caressing your chin with his thumb, tracing your lower lip with his fingernail. Your heart was pounding wildly, you shrank under the man's gaze like a frightened animal. His movements were rough, but his touch seemed almost gentle, as if he didn't want to disrupt this moment or harm your fragile being. His breathing was loud and heavy because of the mask, and the skin under his eyes was slightly reddened. And those eyes. Those warm eyes are the color of pure amber under the bright sun. They looked at you with extraordinary affection and humility. You could recognize those eyes out of a thousand. Like back then, fifteen years ago.
You nervously clutched the steering wheel rim with your right hand, counting the turns. Not so long ago, you managed to get a new job, and who would have thought that this job would be in your childhood home. Or rather, your friend. They always treated you like their own child, so they gave you this job without any problems.
The weather was clear, it was only the beginning of autumn. Some of the trees have already turned golden, their leaves rustling unobtrusively. The sky was clear, without a single cloud, so the sun shone brightly through the windshield of your car. It seemed that nothing could spoil your return to your childhood home.
Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The mind was filled with thousands of pleasant memories of your past together and children's laughter. You missed Brahms so much. It's been a long time since you've seen him.
Finally, after a couple of long hours, you arrived at the Hilsher estate. It remained the same. Obviously, Mr. Heelshire was still carefully tending the garden, growing his wife's favorite flowers. You stopped right next to the driveway, the wheels moving pleasantly on the gravel. After getting out of the car, you went inside without thinking twice. The greenery of this place has always been striking in its beauty, it seemed that no seasons had power over this place, the forests of the estate still gave pleasure with their emerald color and the coolness of the dense grove.
You were met at the very door by Mrs. Heelshire. She has changed a lot since your last visit, of course, the years take their toll. Her eyes were a little red and tired, and there were small bruises under them. Her face was unusually pale and her hair was gray, but not as when it happens from age, but when a person goes through a lot of life difficulties and faces stress.
"Honey, I haven't seen you for so long," the woman said smiling, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Her hugs were pleasant, but strangely nervous, "We were surprised when we received your candidacy for this job."
"I just really wanted to come back. My parents wouldn't let me go just like that."
"And for good reason," the woman mutters to herself, immediately turning to face you with a warm smile, "We always want only the best for you, my girl, don't hold a grudge against us."
Her words strain you a little, but you attribute it to her slight excitement before the long-awaited vacation. After all, for as long as you can remember, Mrs. Heelshire has always been a caring and hardworking woman, she didn't know the word 'rest'.
After ten tedious minutes, Mrs. Heelshire explains to you the set of rules and your responsibilities. It seemed like she was trying in a hurry to tell you everything at once. Her eyes were constantly darting around the walls of the house.
And now you're alone. Taking care of the doll was not so difficult. Although you still didn't understand why the doll had the name of your childhood best friend. No one's parents told you what happened to Brahms, you just moved in a couple of days before his birthday. You didn't even have time to give him the gift you made with your own hands. Years later, you felt guilty about it. But now, that feeling seemed to be gone. It feels like you're finally in your place. You're home.
It happened two weeks after your arrival at the manor. As usual, you were sorting out the groceries that Malcolm brought while the man was standing next to you, leaning against the doorjamb. He was watching you carefully, talking about something. To be honest, you've noticed for a long time how ambiguously he looks at you. All those jokes, compliments, touches and glances. He was flirting with you. But you could definitely tell that he wasn't your type. Damn it, he was overconfident. But in a relationship, you wanted to 'be at the helm', you wanted a guy with character, but definitely obedient. And Malcolm definitely didn't fit that description.
"..hey, can you leave this doll after all? Let's go to my place. I'll show you a lot of interesting things," he says with a sly grin, taking a few steps closer.
"The Heelshirs left me here for a reason, I don't want to undermine their trust."
"Come on, do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a house with just this doll?" The guy purrs, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your neck. You are annoyed by his behavior and you step on Malcolm's foot with force. He hisses and quickly pulls away. "Fuck, are you stupid?"
"Watch your mouth, boy."
Malcolm tenses up. He hears rapid rustling in the walls, his eyes darting around the room.
"The hell with you," he finally gives up. Malcolm grabs the empty boxes and leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. You're relieved. He seems to be a man, but he behaves like a scared boy.
"Y/N.. Did he hurt you?" A small child's voice comes from somewhere in the hallway. You flinch a little. You knew that voice. Brahms. True, his voice was a little different in childhood, now it was quieter and plaintive. You quickly close the refrigerator and slowly walk towards the source of the sound.
"Who's here? Brahms?"
It all happened too fast. At first, you were driven by interest with a little bit of fear. In an instant, you saw a tall, broad figure towering over you by a good two heads. You were scared. You ran away, hoping to hide from a stranger. And one day you were pinned against the wall by a muscular figure.
"Y/N, don't be afraid... I didn't mean to scare you." A child's voice mumbles plaintively. You look into those hazel eyes and your heart sinks.
"Brahms?" In response, the man only reaches out to your face, gently caressing your cheek.
"Now I've won." His voice changes. Instead of a child's voice, a low, hoarse voice now caresses your ears. You feel electricity running down your spine, you instinctively squeeze your hips.
Your hands reach for the porcelain mask, but Brahms abruptly pulls away. He shakes his head negatively. He didn't want you to see his face. He doesn't want you to be scared. He doesn't want you to leave him like the others.
"Come on, Brahms. You're a good boy. Didn't you love kissing?" You speak with a slight smile. A long-drawn-out whine comes from under the mask. He nods briefly. You lift the edge of the mask, covering his hot lips with your own. Brahms's movements are fast and assertive, he bites your lips, squeezing your waist in his hands. He missed you so much.
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cherryxsapphic · 2 years ago
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So, I have a request! (If you don’t like this request idea, you don’t have to write it!)
Marilyn x fem!(can be a student or a teacher)reader, where Marilyn is extremely overprotective over reader. R is used to her pritective nature, but it sometimes goes a bit too far, when Marilyn won’t let r hangout w her friends or go out in a certain outfit. Or when someone tries to hit on r, she would immediately come over and wrap her hand around r’s waist.
So basically just overprotective Marilyn, maybe some angst! You can choose how it goes!
Take your time <3
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This is for the lovely @m1lflov3rrr I am dreadfully sorry that it took me literal months to even put this out, but I do hope you enjoy!!🍒
Also a special thanks to my pookie bear @h-doodles for helping me with this, I couldn't have done this without you!! đŸ„°
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You were sitting down peacefully in the quad by yourself. Sandwich in hand as you jam out to some music blaring through your earbuds, bobbing your head slightly to the rhythm when you suddenly feel a sharp fingernail aggressively tapping your right shoulder. You jumped slightly at the sudden interruption, whipping your head towards the person in question, setting them with an annoyed look only to soften when you realized it was just Enid, Enid Sinclair, the local colorful werewolf. You take a moment to pause your music and pull out your earbuds, setting them down gently on the table alongside your forgotten sandwich. Spinning your body around the school bench, finally giving the very excited wolf your full attention, looking up at her from your seated position, you give her a sheepish smile before speaking.
“Sorry, Enid! I was so caught up in my music that I didn’t notice you there!”  
"I know, silly! You've been hard to see around these past few weeks, so I just HAD to come over."
"I got busy
" You fight to keep your blush down as you think of what, or more accurately, who exactly got you busy. "My schoolwork has been slipping, so I asked a few teachers for extra work." You say, to cover it up.
Enid nods, understanding. Being a student with academic achievements, she often saw you poring over textbooks in the library OR trailing after your teachers for extra lessons during your free time, orders from your strict parents who monitored your progress over your head. “Well,” she starts, clasping her hands together. “Me and the girls have missed you a lot, so I wondered if you were free tonight?”
Guilt seeps into your bones when you hear the hope in her tone. You have been neglecting your friends and a dark whisper inside your brain–
“I suppose I’ve pestered our teachers enough, and I just finished passing the latest exam, so
 I guess I'm free." 
“Yayyy!!!” Enid does a little happy dance before lifting you for a hug. You shouldn’t be surprised by the excitable werewolf’s strength, but you gasp a bit anyway. “We’re going to a party in the woods tonight; you HAVE to come!" 
When she finally puts you down, you sigh and shake your head. “The woods? Enid, you know Weems banned us from going there, right?”
“Don’t worry; the party is located somewhere TOTALLY safe—”
“Hey, girlies!” you stifle a scream when a cold hand suddenly touches your back. “Finally caught us a live one, huh?”
“Haha, hilarious, Tanaka.” your tone dripping with sarcasm as you turn around to give the vampire a playful slap on the hand.
“Don’t start. You’re going to the party, and I’m going to your dorm later to ensure you’re dressed right.”
“I haven’t said yes yet!”
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And here you are in your dorm room, contemplating your life choices before sighing, putting on something comfortable, and grabbing your comfort jacket that belongs to Marilyn. You put the coat to your nose and breathe in her wavering scent, wishing you were with her instead of going to this stupid forest party. Falling on your bed, you bend over clumsily, grabbing your shoes off the ground and putting them on as you were just finishing tying your shoes—
Yoko and the FUCKING Scooby gang burst into your room like a pile of rats searching for cheese. 
“Girliepop, you’re not wearing THAT to the party, right?” Yoko asked, looking you up and down.
While holding Mari's jacket, you looked down at your black jeans, red Converse, and a favorite baggy shirt. Then back to Yoko, who opened your closet and rifled through your clothes while Enid talked animatedly to a sulking Wednesday.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
Yoko pointedly looks at you and pulls out a short, skimpy dress. You blush as you remember Marilyn telling you it was a dress for her eyes only and that you would never wear it out. “You’re simply holding out on us, omg.”
"Yeah, the party's in the woods, so that's a hard NO on wearing that one!"
"Oh come on, what's the point of having that snack of a body if you aren't gonna use the right wrappers?"
"Listen, my tits spill out in one move in that one, and I'd rather die than return it to the store because of anxiety, so you can just. Pick another one
 please?"
Yoko pouts but acquiesces to your pleading. Flipping through some more, she finds a similar-looking skimpy dress, but a little longer than you were confident you'd make out with your dignity half-intact.
"Here."
"Oooh!" Enid moves over, done pestering Wednesday for the moment, and oohs and ahs over the dress before starting again. "Pair it with the heeled boots, and wear tights if you're concerned about the cold."
"I mean. I'm bringing along this jacket, but why heeled boots—”
“Because we said so. Now hop to it.”
Throwing your hands up, you take the new outfit and walk to your bathroom to change. 
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The party in the woods was in full swing, the rhythmic beat of music mingling with the laughter and chatter of the gathered crowd. Strings of fairy lights adorned the trees, casting a warm, enchanting glow over the makeshift dance floor. Enid, the excitable werewolf, led the charge in festivities, dragging you into the heart of the celebration.
As the night unfolded, the atmosphere grew electric, the energy contagious. You found yourself dancing with newfound friends, the pulsating music drowning out any lingering doubts. However, the borrowed outfit — a compromise between your comfort and the party's expectations — seemed to attract more attention than you anticipated.
Yoko, the lively vampire, strutted over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Girl, you're the life of the party! Everyone's talking about that dress!"
You blushed, feeling both flattered and self-conscious. The beats throbbed louder, urging you to lose yourself in the music, and you obliged, dancing away the concerns that nagged at the edges of your mind.
But as the night wore on, a discordant note disrupted the harmony. The distant growls of the creature you encountered earlier echoed through the trees, casting a shadow over the revelry. The carefree atmosphere shifted, and hushed whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.
Enid, always exuberant, tried to downplay the unease. "Guys, it's probably just some forest critter. Don't let it ruin the party!"
Yet, the anxiety lingered, and a subtle tension threaded its way through the crowd. The music played on, but the once carefree dancing took on a more cautious rhythm.
Suddenly, the distant growls escalated into a deafening roar, and panic rippled through the partygoers. People scattered in all directions, the fairy lights casting eerie shadows as they dashed for cover.
Enid grabbed your arm, eyes wide with fear. "We need to get back to the school—now!"
Chaos ensued as the revelry devolved into a frenzied scramble. The once lively dance floor transformed into a chaotic scene of stumbling figures, their laughter replaced by shouts of panic.
As you ran back toward the safety of Nevermore, you couldn't shake the feeling that the creature's pursuit was closing in. The enchanted woods, once a backdrop for joyous gatherings, now harbored an ominous threat.
The party had taken a turn no one expected, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake. In the midst of the pandemonium, you yearned for the familiar embrace of Marilyn's jacket, a reminder of comfort amid the unforeseen disaster that had unfolded in the enchanted night.
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‘I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die, and it’s MY fault.’ I scream inside my head while I dart left and right through the trees. Protip: do not wear heels when going into the woods. Scratch that. Trust no one except Mari. Everyone is dumb EXCEPT Mari, especially when they say the woods are safe, there is NO monster, and you’re going to have SUCH a good time.
I could’ve enjoyed a nice cuddling session with Mari if I just stayed in bed and waited for her like usual, but no. I had to let myself get guilted and dragged to this party in these stupid heels and dress, and now I’m being chased by a BEAST, and I don’t even have my phone to give Mommy my goodbyes!’ 
The monster roars somewhere closer behind me, and I feel like I will have a HEART ATTACK! But I'll be fine once I get to the school, and look, there's the Hogwarts-looking building right there. So I just keep running. Thinking I'll be okay, my dumbass trips over a branch, and suddenly, I just want to give up. I feel like those dumb girls in those low-budget horror films.
As you scramble to your feet, panic gripping you like a vice, you hear the menacing growls of the pursuing creature drawing near. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sprint toward the safety of the school building, your heels abandoned in the unforgiving underbrush.
The imposing silhouette of Nevermore looms ahead, a beacon of hope in the darkness. The monster's roars reverberate through the trees, pushing you to run faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Just when you think the creature is on the verge of catching you, the school's entrance comes into view. You burst through the doors, heart pounding, and slam them shut behind you, momentarily cutting off the creature's menacing sounds.
Safe within the confines of the school, you lean against the door, catching your breath. The echo of your heartbeats seems to drown out the lingering fear. The school hallway stretches before you, the familiar surroundings offering a stark contrast to the perilous adventure you just survived.
As you compose yourself, you realize that the night took an unexpected turn, and your friends might not have been entirely truthful about the safety of the woods. Thoughts of Marilyn flood your mind, and a profound longing for the comfort of her presence washes over you.
You decide to retreat to the quietude of your dorm room, shedding the borrowed outfit and slipping into the familiar warmth of Marilyn's jacket. The scent provides solace, grounding you in the reality that, despite the night's chaos, you are safe within the walls of Nevermore.
Reflecting on the events, you vow to prioritize your own well-being and not succumb to peer pressure. As you drift into a contemplative state, you can't help but yearn for the simplicity of sharing a peaceful moment with Marilyn, free from the chaos that lurks beyond the safety of Nevermore's embrace. 
To be continued

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Sorry for the lack of Marilyn in this chapter but don't worry there will be more in part 2, if y'all want a part 2 you that is?? đŸ€­
Tags: @s1nful-sa1nt @sssappling2004 @marilynthornhill @proton-selfships @philip-15 @luucyyyy (and anyone else who wants to be tagged ♡)
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oceannote · 5 months ago
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EMPIRE WAR - Introduction
Note from author: Hello my lovelies, hope you will enjoy this new and first series that I am writing. To give you a bit of an insight this is a story that plays mostly in the business corporate environment, but besides being a love story it is a friendship story and represents how we sometimes navigate life when we feel overwhelmed in our 20's. A lot will be going on and all I can say it is to grab your snacks and drinks and get ready because it will be a turmoil of a storyline. Warnings: Characthers are fake and are a result of fiction, mentions of bullying and lack of self confindence. ______________________________________________________________
Imagine this: You’re 18, fresh out of an elite Swiss boarding school, where even the vending machines probably have a wine list. You’re the only child of the Richardsons—a family so wealthy that saying your last name out loud is basically a cheat code for life. VIP access? Check. Designer bags? All of them. Your biggest stressor? Deciding whether to party in Paris or Milan this weekend.
But there’s one tiny problem.
You’ve been lying to your father—the Thomas Richardson—about getting into Harvard Business School. Yes, the Harvard. And with your imaginary first semester creeping up, reality slaps you harder than a Korean skincare routine: You’re not even on the waitlist.
Cue the most apocalyptic father-daughter showdown in history. I’m sobbing, mascara smudged like a raccoon, while my father’s voice reaches decibel levels that could shatter glass. He says I’m a disappointment, a spoiled brat, proof that giving a kid everything means they’ll appreciate nothing. And here’s the kicker: He wasn’t wrong.
Thomas Richardson wasn’t just born with a silver spoon—he probably had a platinum bib. At ten, he had a personal driver for his Bentley and went to school with royal heirs. But while teenage me was dodging responsibilities, 18-year-old Thomas was begging to work at Wonder Technologies, our family’s tech empire. And now? He’s punishing me for being
 well, me.
His master plan? Uprooting us to my momïżœïżœs home country: South Korea.
For me, it was hell. For him, it was genius.
My mom, Soonja, is a powerhouse—a full-Korean queen who clawed her way from a humble farm to a prestigious UK scholarship, despite speaking about as much English as a K-pop song’s random rap verse. She raised me on two ironclad rules:
Invest in yourself. Find a man who worships the ground you walk on. Easier said than done, Mom.
So, there I was, 19 years old, tossed into the Business Strategy program at Seoul National University. My dad thought Korean culture’s discipline might break my wild spirit. Instead, I made friends, survived university, and, of course, developed a crush that turned my life into a K-drama gone wrong. Enter my bestie, Aurora Sinclair—a tall, blonde, blue-eyed German adopted by a Korean family at age three. She was the human equivalent of a confetti cannon, pulling together our girl squad: Me, Aurora, Han Nori, Jung Yuna, and Lee Hayeon.
We were a sight—two tall foreigners and three petite Korean girls, strutting through campus like the world’s most confusing girl group. The beauty standards were brutal. I spent four years battling my skin, my weight, and my inability to match Korean fashion’s “effortless” perfection.
And as if the universe needed a good laugh, I fell hard for him.
Jeon Jungkook.
The heir to KK Electronics, son of Soun Jeon, and a man so stunning he could make a mannequin self-conscious. His father had already announced Jungkook as the future CEO before the guy even set foot in his first lecture.
What started as a harmless crush turned into a full-blown, soul-destroying infatuation. I built our imaginary love story in my head, from meet-cute to “I do,” until reality decided to hit me with a plot twist.
At our end-of-year party, after downing more soju than legally advisable, I confessed my feelings. And Jungkook? He laughed.
Like, full-on, belly laugh. In front of his entire friend group.
And just in case I still had a shred of dignity left, he publicly friend-zoned me so hard that even Google Maps couldn’t find a way out.
And now? Well, I’m 26 years old, and—plot twist—I’m the CFO of Wonder Technologies.
Yeah, I gag a little every time I see my name on my office wall:
"Amelia Richardson, CFO."
The irony is delicious, isn’t it? The girl who couldn’t spell “business strategy” is now running a tech empire.
But here’s where things get even juicier. It’s not just that I work here—it’s who I work with.
After my confession disaster, our university friend groups split like a bad boy band breakup. Now, my company is a circus featuring:
Park Jimin: One of Jungkook’s besties, now an executive director at Wonder Technologies. He practically lives in my office, gossiping about celebrity scandals. He’s also dating my best friend, Yuna—our marketing director.
Min Yoongi: Another of Jungkook’s crew, head of sales, and my personal workplace menace. He’s secretly dating Aurora, but if you ask him, we all somehow have the IQ of a potato for not figuring it out.
And then, of course, there’s him.
Jeon Jungkook.
Now ruling his empire with his remaining Musketeers:
Kim Taehyung: CFO at KK Electronics, dating my friend Han Nori. At least her love story had a happy ending.
Kim Seokjin: Jungkook’s cousin and executive director.
Kim Namjoon: A board member who looks like he stepped out of a James Bond movie.
Jung Hoseok: The main glue of the group that keeps us from jumping at each other's throats 24/7.
Because this isn’t just a story about a boy who made me question my entire existence.
This is a saga of boardroom battles, high-stakes drama, broken hearts, and maybe—just maybe—some ridiculously romantic moments.
So grab your popcorn, hold onto your wine glass, and get ready.
Welcome to the Empire War.
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