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lostosworld · 2 years ago

Note

Hii I just wanted to see if you do requests? I kind of want to ask a Vince and Bo both dating you. But you kind of have a bad week and don’t talk and act like your normal self and then one day they finally ask you and (you know when someone asks if you are okay and the waterfall comes) and have a lot of comfort🥺

I’m kinda struggling right now and today just is the one over the edge and need some love and comfort from these guys😭😭😭

If not that’s alright! Thank you for reading this one anyways!

Dating Both Vincent and Bo Sinclair: You had a bad week </3 Bo and Vincent comfort <3

Bo Sinclair x reader, Vincent Sinclair x reader

contains— fluffff, Bo, and Vinnie being cutie patooties, the boys kind of give off caregiver vibes?, agere vibes but like not really specifying or going into too much detail with that, vinnie does speak a VERY little. YALL CANT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME, HE SOMETIMES SPEAKS TO YOU WHEN ALONE IDC I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL, a bit of babying honestly, I feel like it sucks but this is the best my sleepy brain can come up with...

requests— always open! send whateva guys <3

vampyr's note— Thanks for requesting, I hope you're doing okay 🥺 I wanted to get this out as soon as possible just cause I know how it feels when you have those days where you're struggling and nothing goes right. I hope this makes your day a little better and if it does, I'm glad I was able to help! <3 My DMs are ALWAYS open if anyone needs to talk to someone! <3 I want to say that this is my first time having to WRITE a cohesive story instead of small blurbs, so I'm sorry for any bad writing!

word count— 2.0k words, 10.9k characters

as always... gifs aren't mine!

reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

(literal husbands ughh) (Vincent speaks through sign language! its easier on me to write it that way) (NOT PROOFREAD)

It was just a day. It was just a week, even. That's all it was. "All you have to do is get through it" is what you kept telling yourself. As you lay in bed in the workshop, watching Vincent work, your chest felt heavy. As if there was some sort of weight that was pulling you down. Your throat almost felt shut closed, as if you were to speak, nothing would come out. Your eyelids felt heavy and your vision grew hazy. You've been in bed all day. You didn't even know what time it was.

One thing about Vincent: if you don't tell him to stop working, he never will. He gets so lost in sketching and materializing those sketches that he forgets to eat and drink water, sometimes even take bathroom breaks. Bo can be heard upstairs, busy with something or someone. The loud thuds of his boots can be heard from downstairs. You sat up from the bed, your hair a tousled mess. Vincent's head snaps towards you almost instantly and his eyes soften at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was a mess but it looked so good, your skin was flushed a bit from all the crying and rubbing at your face, and you sat there wearing Bo's Nine Inch Nails band tee.

Vincent tilts his head at you, something he does a lot. "How did you sleep, beautiful?" He signs. A faint smile graced your lips.

"It... it was okay." You said a bit flatly. You got up and walked to him. Vincent noticed your thigh-high socks that rested up to about mid-thigh. The warmth of the basement really hitting your skin now. Vincent stood on his stool, waiting for you to really cuddle up in his arms like you normally do. But his heart sank a little when all you did was a small side hug and looked at one of the sketches he was drawing.

You were trying to avoid his gaze. You've been like this, this whole entire week. You lay in bed and shut yourself out from your lovers. It's easy to hide your true discontent feelings from Bo, as he tends to get busy with running everything in Ambrose with Lester. But with Vincent, it's a different story. Vincent knows you like the back of his hand. He observes you like a lost puppy. You're fascinating to him. So when you have these weeks, he tries to give you space and offer comfort but, it's truly hard when all you do is push away from him. Vincent watched you walk up the stairs, listening to the soft pitter patters of your feet. He wasn't gonna follow you yet but he knew Bo was gonna get to the bottom of what has been making you feel so bad.

Vincent had always struggled with confrontation and confronting you. Bo was always upfront with you and sometimes had to air out Vincent's feelings so that Vincent's problems would get solved. You never minded it though. You kind of admired the Yin and Yang in them. You loved the warmth of Vincent and the iciness of Bo.

As you walked out into the kitchen, Bo was already there, looking through the fridge. Bo's phone dinged and he looked at the message, tensing his jaw a bit as he looked at you. The message was from Vincent and it very much was a message about you and your recent behavior. "Doll," he says lowly, dragging out the name itself. You turned your head to him, already preparing yourself to mask your emotions completely. You hummed in response as you looked up at the taller man, he looked at you with expectant eyes. You heard approaching footsteps from behind you, once you heard Vincent walk into the room, you knew the jig was up.

Bo carried you and placed you on the kitchen island's countertop. Bo and Vincent now standing in front of you, Vincent's hand holding your left and Bo's hand holding your right. In serious moments like this, Vincent takes off his mask, and Bo's icy-cold gaze softens, and in this moment, it isn't an exception. You knew where this was going and you knew you needed comfort, it was just hard opening up to them. Not because you didn't want to, and not because they wouldn't listen but because you didn't want to waste energy trying to make them understand. You didn't want advice on how to make it better... you just wanted some extra love. Bo cleared his throat, interrupting you and your thoughts. "Doll, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but very intimate.

Within seconds, your eyes begin to water and your tears begin to blur your vision. Vincent is quick to react as he pulls your face into his chest, shooting a look at Bo. He smells like wax and lavender-scented candles, a smell that smelt like home to you. Bo's thumb ran over your thumb in a soothing manner. The gesture really makes your heart swell as you turn your head to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry guys," You say, tears falling from your eyes, wetting Vincent's shirt a bit. "I know I've been extremely distant but I-" Bo shushes you immediately, stopping you from explaining. He reaches a hand out to you, the hand cupping your chin, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip. "Now, you don't have to tell us anything, darling. Open up when you're ready okay?" He asks and you nod your head still sniffling. "Pretty princesses like you shouldn't be crying, okay?" You hug Bo next and he smiles a bit. He can't help but think that in moments like these, you're the cutest, so vulnerable and so small. He loves reveling in the fact that he can provide for you like a true man. It's his biggest ego boost. He loves feeling like he and his brother are the only ones on the planet earth that can make you feel good. Once you pull away, Bo stamps a kiss on your forehead. "What would you like us to do for you?" Vincent signs, his face contorted with worry.

Bo carries you off the counter and you cling onto him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks down at you and smiles a bit, he walks you over to the living room, as Vincent goes downstairs, grabbing all of your favorite movies and DVDs and grabbing your weighted blanket along with one of your favorite stuffed animals. Bo sits you on the couch and brings you a glass of water. "Drink up, okay baby. I know you probably haven't had anything to drink in a while," he says softly while rubbing your back. It was a true statement, you hadn't really taken care of yourself this week, it was apparent. Your skin was paler than usual, your cheeks were puffy and your lips plump from constantly chewing at them. It felt so good to be taken care of by Bo and Vincent. They were the best at giving princess treatment.

Vincent finally comes up and brings all the things you need. You feel your heart swell as Vincent sets the DVDs down on the table in front of you. He sits next to you, sprawling out the weighted blanket over the three of you as you reach for your favorite stuffed animals. "Now, which movie would you like to watch, sunshine." Bo drawls as he holds up all the DVDs in hand, sprawled out so that you can pick out of your favorites. Once the movie is picked he gets up and puts the movie in as you lean into Vincent's chest. Vincent's arms come over you and he pulls you onto him so that your back is in contact with his chest as Bo sits back down next to you. Bo lifts your legs up and sets them on his lap, his warm and calloused hands, rubbing at your skin and massaging your legs sensually as the movie starts. Every now and then Bo kisses the skin on your legs, truly making you feel pampered with love.

Once the movie comes to a close, you look to your left and see Bo, sleeping already. Vincent's still up though, his delicate hands playing with your hair and making small two-strand and three-strand braids, something that you taught him how to do in the past. "Vince," you call out to him quietly. He hums softly, not stopping the braiding. "What should we do now? Bo's asleep." You say. Vincent looks to Bo and shakes his head playfully disapproving. You finally turn your body to him and Vincent smiles once he sees your face. He leans in for a small kiss, which you gladly return. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles more, beginning to hold your face with his warm and intoxicating touch. "Are you feeling better?" He signs to you. You think for a second and you shrug. "I don't know anymore, Vinnie. I still feel really sad." You explain truthfully. Vincent stands up and grabs your hand. "Where are we going," you ask him as he begins to pull you up the stairs.

Vincent leads you to one of the bedrooms. He sits you on the bed and signals you to wait there. You nod in slight confusion, listening to his request. You watch Vincent walk in and out of the bedroom and in the bathroom. Vincent begins to run a bath for you, adding your favorite scents, and bath bombs to the water that consisted of your favorite colors. He adds rose petals to the water and smiles to himself. Vincent always outdid himself when it came to you and your needs, this being a great example. Vincent walks back to the bedroom and tugs on the oversized band tee you were wearing, his own way of telling you to take it off. Once you do, he turns your body so that your back is facing him and very gently undoes the hooks in your bra, as he does so, his lips trail your neck and back very slowly. Once your bra falls flat to the floor he very slowly takes off your underwear and sits you on the bed.

Vincent's eyes trail over your body a couple times but his eyes don't feel predatory. It feels like he's taking in your beauty in its purest form. You were a muse for him, he's seen your body in many vulnerable poses and such and he feels lucky to even say that. "Pretty..." He whispers to himself. He looks up to you with flushed cheeks, "Pretty princesses shouldn't have to undress themselves either." He kneels down to the floor and begins to pull off your thigh highs. Nice and slow leaving kisses down your thighs and legs and doing the same to the other. You feel your heart race and you begin to cover yourself up with your arms to which he shakes his head disapprovingly as he reaches over and retracts your arms to your side. Vincent stands up, pulls his cardigan off, and begins to undress himself. He picks you up and carries you to the bath setting you in gently as he gets behind you. Your back was on Vincent's chest. Vincent hums a small tune as he undoes all the braids and twists that he did in your hair, wetting the hair in the process, massaging your scalp, and leaving kisses all over your back. "There's my pretty girl." You hear from the doorway. Bo walks in and sits on the edge of the tub. "You know you look so pretty right now, enjoying yourself with Vince, right?" He asks teasingly, and you look away from him, feeling so shy under his keen eye. To distract yourself from his gaze you grab the shampoo, getting ready to lather your hair in it. But Bo takes it away from you. "Let me," He starts, "Our pretty doll is not gonna think for herself today, okay? You just sit there and look pretty... we'll take care of you okay?" He says in a loving yet firm voice.

This night was gonna be all about you.

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lostosworld · 2 years ago

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I heard SOMEONE didn’t have a Bo request and honestly thats criminal, so I’m here to request sumn for my baby daddy

ummm.. may I have some Bo angst and fluff ?? 👉🏽👈🏽 Bos having a horrible week and reader tries to help him, maybe homie got triggered by something that made him relive something from his childhood (bonus points if Bo drunk cries) ily brooks<333 mwah mwah mwah (this is me kissing you for being such a great writer)

ALMOND MY BELOVED!!! thank you for sending in a bo req i love that funky guy. i rlly hope u love this!!! and stop im kissing YOU for being a great writer wth

do you enjoy my work? consider donating to my ko-fi :-)

Hold Me ; Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT: 983

WARNINGS: sfw, childhood abuse mention, brief descriptions of abuse, drunk bo, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drunk bo cries, bo needs a hug and i want to give him one :(, not proofread per usual

Bo came into the house loudly. He wasn’t yelling or cursing. No, it was his movements that were loud, his footsteps landing heavy on the wooden floor and you can hear him stumble into furniture. You slip out of bed, walking downstairs and pausing on the steps. Bo hadn’t seen you yet and was in the kitchen, half-empty whiskey bottle in hand, leaning over the counter. His shoulders were shaking. He was crying.

He turns, walking to the living room, still oblivious to your presence. He had started drinking back at the garage, trying desperately to drown out the memories that began to flood his system, but they wouldn’t. He can hear his mothers voice in his head. He can feel the sting of her palm as she slaps him and he swears he can see her twisted face just in front of him.

Bo falls onto the couch with a huff, putting the liquor bottle down beside him and puts his head in his hand. “Stop fuckin’ crying’,” He says under his breath, voice catching in his throat. “Fuckin’ bitch, stop crying. Pathetic,” He’s crying harder now, his words mixing with his mother and fathers inside his head. At an early age Bo learned quickly that tears were worse than anger. Anger was for men, tears were for little girls, and there was nothing his father hated more than a boy acting like a girl.

“Bo?” You were standing in the doorway of the living room and Bo jumped, head snapping up and looking at you. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. Go back to bed, Y/N.” His voice is hoarse from crying and he clears his throat, turning away from you. All he wanted was to tell you how he felt, explain why he was crying in the middle of the night, but he couldn’t. He just fucking couldn’t. He can hear you begin to walk over to him and he snaps. “I fuckin’ said go back to sleep!”

You don’t respond, just continue to walk towards him. You sit down beside him on the couch and wrap your arm around his shoulder. He attempts to pull away but you hold on and he suddenly feels fucking exhausted. Bo sinks into you and you lean back against the couch and he buries his head into your chest, sobbing. They’re loud, gut-wrenching sobs, deep from within him, built up from years of holding them back.

Bo had half a mind to be embarrassed but the alcohol flowing through his system and the way you were holding him was enough for him to push it aside for now. “M’sorry,” He says through shaky breaths, desperate to calm himself down. “Yelled at you for nothin’, I’m an ass, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Bo.” Though your words are soft he can feel the seriousness behind them. “You’re alright, I promise. Just sit here and get it out ‘till you’re ready to talk, alright?” He nods and for the next hour the two of you sit there in complete and utter silence. Your grip around him never loosened, and you soon began to rock against him, humming into his ear. Your chin was resting on his head and he could feel your heartbeat through your chest.

Finally he was calm. His sobs had slowed, the occasional hiccup and shaky breath being the only indicator of what he had gone through. “Thank you.” He says softly, still tucked into your side. He felt so small like this but in a good way. He felt safe, comforted. Loved. It was a strange feeling. Vincent loved him, and so did Lester, but a small part of him felt like they had to. They were brothers. They had gone through the same thing as Bo did and were going through the same thing now, but you were different. You chose to love him. You saw the entirety of him, the good, the bad, the downright disgusting, and you stayed.

He had bared himself for you and you stuck your heels in the dirt and proved that you loved him. “Wanna talk about it now?” You whisper and he sighs, attempting to sit up. You don’t let go of him. “No, stay right there. Lemme hold you while you talk, alright? Tell me whatever you want to.”

And so he does. He tells you about what had caused this all to happen; he was in the garage when he had accidentally cut himself. It was just a nick on his wrist, but when he watched the small droplet of blood rise up from his scarred wrist, all of the memories he had managed to suppress came rushing back. He had a panic attack then and there, curled up on the floor of the garage rocking back and forth feeling like his heart was constricting in his chest. When he was able to move, that’s when he had grabbed the whiskey.

It was nearly full when he had started drinking but the thoughts and memories never went away no matter how many swigs he took from the bottle. “Can still hear her voice, even now,” He says and suddenly feels exhausted. His body loosens and he lets his rigidness go, melting into you even further. “It’s quieter now, though. Cuz of you,” He looks up at you and blinks slowly, eyelids heavy. “I love you. You’re the best damn thing to have happened to me.”

“And I love you, Bo. So much. I can’t go back and change the past, no matter how much I want to, but I can promise one thing.” You kiss the top of his head. He was asleep, snoring and nuzzling into you, arm wrapped around your waist and head on your chest. “I’m never leaving you.”

When he woke up that next morning to feel you against him, still on the couch, he knew you meant it.

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lostosworld · 2 years ago

Text

Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim

Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader

Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were

You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home

Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?

“You’re one of them”

The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time

You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation

Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged

“They killed my girlfriend!”

The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack

Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters

The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips

Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets

Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?

“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”

The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”

You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body

His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon

A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder

Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with

Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.

“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”

Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.

“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”

“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”

Vincent Sinclair

You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters

Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it

So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part

Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back

Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did

“Miss? Fuck, help me!”

The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?

“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”

Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face

“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”

“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“

You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face

“Please-“

“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”

The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth

The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out

The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof

Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person

As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second

Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body

Some time later

“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.

“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”

An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.

“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.

Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,

‘You’re safe now.’

Lester Sinclair

Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath

That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company

“Be right back darlin’”

Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder

This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight

“I’ll stay right here!”

You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope

Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes

Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest

“Jonsey?”

You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued

It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action

“There you are girl!”

You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand

“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”

You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl

“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“

Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach

Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again

Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”

“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”

His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees

Then a gunshot rang out

“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.

“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.

“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.

“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.

“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”

If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!

As always requests are always open!

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