#House of Wax oneshots

[random-imagines-blog]

Cards on the Table {Bo Sinclair x Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 10830 Summary: You end up making your way into Ambrose - and you’re given a job? Notes: This is House of Wax so there’s definitely death, and swearing. Author Note: Okay this became like a loong passion project, I’m not sorry.

Lester noted the appearance of the car moving slowly forward along the road, kicking up dust. It was a beaut of a car, that was the first thing that he noticed. He wasn’t quite the gearhead that his older brother was, only knowing enough to know what to cut under the hood, but he could appreciate. It looked like a classic car. Something that his dad might have driven back in the day. But in impecable shape. It didn’t roar or wheeze or sputter. It purred. The second thing that he picked up on was that it was just one car, with one passenger. It was a bit disappointing when that happened. Sometimes he’d just let the sole passengers go. Wasn’t really worth it. But Bo really would love that car. It would make a great present. Better than the oven mitts that he tried to give him for Christmas the year before, and got a slap upside the head for.

You pulled off into what looked like a really quiet clearing. You were lost, exhausted, and just hoping to get a couple hours of shut eye before tackling the problem in the morning. You completely missed the truck hidden out among the trees and the brown eyes that were watching you. You tried to check your phone - no service up here. You weren’t surprised. Louisiana was notoriously spotty unless you were in the big cities. Something about all of the trees and the swamps or something, you figured. You sighed. You turned off the engine. Hopefully whatever town you find has a carwash - you hate getting your baby dirty. Shuffled back into the seat. Rolled your windows up - the old handcrank method since it was an old car after all. Rested back against the head rest and let your eyes close - and let your mind doze.

Lester was like a predator out there in the trees. Waiting until you were good and deep in REM sleep before he’d even reach for the handle of his door. One person. That might piss off Bo. Going through all of this trouble for next to nothing. You were aesthetically pleasing though. He saw a lot of girls come and go this way, usually with a bunch of friends and their boyfriends, so Lester thought he knew all about that. Bo and Vincent only saw the girls that were on the television screens. So they weren’t such good judges of real people.

He watched you sleep for another couple of minutes. Yeah, you’d make a good enough figure. Vincent had been complaining that there were more men than women now. They just didn’t come through nearly as much. Or they weren’t nice looking enough to put on in. Or sometime Bo would lose his temper and hurt them, deform them so badly that they wouldn’t make good enough figures, and then Vincent would be very disappointed. This one was good.

He lightly touched the glass of the window, his grubby fingers making little impressions on it. He hadn’t meant to go that far but you did look so nice and peaceful. So unaware of what was up to come. Ahh fuck. Oh well. You asked for it by taking the dangerous road is all. If Les felt bad about every pretty person that he sent up to Ambrose, he’d never get out of bed in the morning.

He lifted up the hood of the car quietly. Not even a squeak. He admired that in the car. He didn’t need anything other than the light of the moon and the stars above to help him rummage around in there until he found what he was looking for. He’d done this enough times. The fan belt. Always the fan belt. Why mess with what works? It was actually pretty easy to mess one up. He could feel that this one had been recently replaced and he felt a little bad before he would sabotage it. Not for you. For the car. Maybe Bo would let him drive it once in a while. Take it into town.

He finished up pretty quickly. Then lowered the hood as quietly as he could, making sure that it was nice and secure. Rubbed off any finger prints that he might have left behind with the elbow of his shirt, which was also pretty filthy but better than nothing. Back to his truck, and to Jonesy who was waiting patiently in the passenger seat. The dog gave him a lick as he started up the vehicle and made it crawl away from you, leaving you vulnerable to the night.

-

Ambrose seemed like such a pretty town, you had to admit. Quiet, but there was nothing wrong with that. After your car wouldn’t start, you had begun the walk and you were found by a nice redneck named Lester who offered to take you into town. There were red flags abound and you hated having to leave your car, your baby out there but he had promised you that no one really came up here and it would be safe. “Either I can drive you back with the fan belt or the mechanic can bring you himself. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be taken care of.”

He had such an earnest little face. So you tried to trust him. You kept your keys close though. Clenched in your hand so that no one would be able to get them. Unless someone hot wired your car, or towed it - though it was off of the road and hidden pretty well, it shouldn’t be, it should be alright. You had to trust that it was alright. It was the only thing that you had in this world.

“And here you go,” Lester said, stopping in front of the gas station. “‘should be in there. If not, he’ll be ‘round.”

“Thanks Lester,” You said, smiling at him. And you even pet the dog too, a little sweetheart, though mangled. You always did love animals. “It was nice to meet yah!”

“Yeah, you too,” Lester said to you, a grin showing off some badly rotted teeth. It was off-putting, sure, but you didn’t see much of a dental office being here in Ambrose. You could see just about the whole town from the gas station when you got out and had a stretch in the sunshine. Some storefronts, a church, and a building that advertised itself as a House of Wax. Now that was interesting. Maybe you would check that out before you left. You weren’t in a big hurry to get to wherever it was that you were going. You hadn’t even decided yet. Leave it to you to get lost when you didn’t even have a destination in mind.

The truck puttered off and you stood alone in front of the gas station. The sun was beating down so roughly on you, you hoped that the mechanic had something cold to drink. You’d pay him a whole ten dollars for a cool bottle of water if that was what it came down to. Anything for a parched throat. You walked up to the door and peer in through the window first. You could see what you needed in there, hanging up. Or at least, you hoped you did. It might be the wrong size. But you didn’t see anybody in there. Still, the door was unlocked so you walked into the dusty interior, looking around. Completely and totally empty. But there were a couple of chairs, so you sat your butt down and decided to wait. And dozed. It really was warm in here, wasn’t it? Just a little bit more shut eye until this mechanic came off of his break or something. Maybe he was on breakfast. Lunch?

“Well, hello there,” A smooth, southern-sounding voice said, breaking you out of the near-sleep that you had fallen into. You startled awake and saw a man standing directly in front of you, legs so close to yours that your jeans and his nice black trousers were touching. In fact, he looked very dressed up. “Now what can I do for you?”

“Are you the mechanic?” You asked, taking in the formal attire. The black suit looked like it had never seen a grease stain before. But you caught a glimpse of those hands and - yes, those were hard-working hands. You knew them well. You were a bit of a grease-monkey yourself. Yours often looked the same.

“I am,” He said, unbuttoning the jacket that he was wearing. How he managed with the heat, you didn’t know. “You caught me on an off day. I was just up at the church for a funeral. Someone very special to me passed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” You said, feeling bad for interrupting just by being here. “Listen, I - I only came for a fanbelt. If I could just buy one, and maybe a cold drink off of you, I’ll be out of your hair in no time. No one should have to work the day of a funeral.”

The guy was looking down atcha, an eyebrow raised.  “A fan belt? You ain’t from around here, are yah?”

“Yeah, a fifteen inch if you have one? But yes, I suppose in a small town like this, you’d know everyone. I didn’t even know this town was here. I was taking a scenic route rather than the boring highway and ended up not too far from here. And then ... I don’t know what happened. My fan belt just was - messed up. Strange since I replaced it myself not too long ago but you know how these things happen. And I’m so sorry. I’m rambling and you’re upset. Really, I’ll just be going once I get the belt.”

He still didn’t move back from you. You couldn’t even stand up for how close that he was. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one out by the teeth and lit it, right there inside of the station, not even wary of what could happen. So many containers of chemicals in here that could go up with one spark.

“You said a fifteen inch?” He asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any here, but I do up at the house. Why don’t we go get it? It’s only a couple of blocks from here.”

You thought about it for a couple of seconds. You were in a strange town. And this man, even if he was good looking, even if he did have a lot of charm to him, was inviting you up to his house. You looked at him warily. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I could be a murderer for all you know.”

A smirk spread on his face, like you just shared something that was a private joke. But then he chuckled and everything seemed to light up again. “I think I’ll take my chances. But you could just stay here and wait again for a while if that’s what you want to do... I know them chairs aren’t the comfiest though.”

He had a point there. You were aching a little from sitting for so long. So you nodded. “Alright, yeah. I could do with some stretching of my legs.” What could it hurt? It was just a couple of blocks. And there were quite a few houses from the looks of things. “How much do you think it will cost?” You asked, getting your wallet prepared.

“Ahh - twenty should be near enough,” He said. That seemed a low, but this was a small town. Perhaps they just had smaller prices. Or maybe you were just being a bit too naive. You had that tendency sometimes. You nodded, and followed him up the street, taking in the look of the town as you went. “So - you traveling by yourself?” He asked smoothly.

“Yeah,” You said. “The feeling of being by yourself on the open road. It’s just a freeing feeling, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t get out of Ambrose too much.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime. There’s a big, bright, beautiful world out there. Or at least, that’s what people keep telling me. Might as well explore it while you still have some life in you.”

He had his hands on his hips while he was walking. It made him appear more disarming that way. “Everything I need is in Ambrose,” He said. You nodded slowly, thinking that you might have touched a nerve. “You see that big house up there? That House of Wax? People used to come to see it from miles away. And Trudy was the main .. I guess artist is the appropriate word. I’m living next to what was one of the best tourist attractions in all of Louisiana. Ain’t nothing like that to see anywhere else. You wanna go exploring, I’d suggest you start there.”

“Whoa,” You said, as you came in closer to the attraction. House of Wax, written right there. “I’ve never been to one of those. Maybe I will stop in.”

Because of your interest, as you were ascending up a hill, your legs getting the work out that they needed, Bo told you the sad story about Trudy Sinclair. It nearly broke your heart, thinking about someone going through that. You were looking over at the House of Wax so wistfully - there was no way that Bo didn’t notice it. That and - you were really listening to him. He had a real southern charm about him. Something that a lot of boys down here in Louisiana thought that they had but really didn’t. It’s what separated them from the men. He stayed a few steps away from you, enough to make you feel comfortable. Not looming like boys were known to do.

His house was up behind the House of Wax. And it was a gorgeous house. All big windows. Curved walls in the front. Bo stopped by the outside of his truck, wiggled the handle and opened the door. “You can hop on in, take a seat if you want. I’ll go in, get the fan belt, and then take you back to your car. Least I can do for making you wait.”

A real gentleman, this guy. Reminded you a little of Lester who had brought you to Ambrose in the first place. “Well,” You said, looking curiously over to the House of Wax. “If it’s not too late - do you think the House of Wax is still open? I’d love to see it before I leave town. I don’t know if I’d even be able to find this place again. I just want to take the opportunity, you know?”

He gave you a glance that looked almost like approval. Like you just had the best damn idea that he had ever heard. “Go on ahead,” He said with a nod. “Doors should be open. They always are aroun’ here. I’ll get that belt, and wait for you out front, how does that sound?”

“Real swell,” You smiled. “Thanks Bo.”

--

The House of Wax was a real work of art. You had never seen anything like it. You were sure not to touch most things but there were some little figures that you couldn’t help but pick up. A name was written on the bottom. Vincent. “Now isn’t that cute,” You said, setting it back down. “Always liked the name Vincent.”

There was no official tour or anything. No signs which pointed which way you should go. Even with Bo waiting for you, you took your time. Circling everything. Until you thought that you saw someone outside of the window. There was a movement absolutely. Figuring that it was the man who was waiting on you, you hurried on outside. “Bo, I ‘m sorry, I -”

But you froze when you realized there was no vehicle waiting for you outside of the museum. It wasn’t Bo either. There was a large figure standing there, with hair down to the midback. You caught the glimpse of pale features before the face turned back around and the person scurried into the brush. “Hey, wait,” You said, taking a couple of steps after him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. Bo- the mechanic - he said that I could be in there. If I broke the rules, I’m really sorry-”

“Who are you talkin to?” A voice came from behind you. You turned around in relief to see Bo standing there.

“I think I startled someone. I saw them from the window, thought it was you. When I came out, he went running-”

“Oh, that was probably my brother. He’s a bit more on the skittish side,” Bo said with a grin that didn’t look as friendly before. “How’d you like the house? Real neat, ain’t it?”

“It’s beautiful,” You said, starting to gush. “I’d never seen anything like it. That woman, she was real talented, wasn’t she? I can’t believe she managed to make it all by herself.”

“Well, she had a little help,” Bo said, continuing to grin like he had just told a funny sort of joke. “So does my brother.”

Your face turned into one of confusion, all before you felt something, a fabric, go around your mouth and nose, and fell into a sleep. It was so quick, you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming up behind you.

--

“Ain’t they perfect?” You heard Bo’s voice. But it sounded far away. Like they were underwater. Or maybe you were underwater. No, you could still breathe. In through the nose. Out through your lips. They felt dry. Cracked. Chapped. Most of your skin did. It was really cold in here but you were covered in a thin layer of sweat - which might be helpful. You could feel restraints around your wrists but you couldn’t quite tell what they were. Sweat might help you get greasy enough to get out.

There was no response from whoever it was that Bo was talking to. But there were the sounds of someone moving around. You tried to feel what you were sitting on, your eyes feeling too heavy to open. Effects of the sedation, possibly? You remembered a cloth. Chloroform? That’s what people usually used in the movies and television shows. But why? Had you done something wrong? Were you not supposed to go into the House of Wax, even though you were invited?

It almost felt like you were on a bed of some sort. Your legs were sprawled out in front of you, which meant there was no way that you were on a chair. There wouldn’t have been enough room. Your back was up against a wall, uncomfortable. You shuffled forward a little, as slowly as you could, and then became aware of something beside you. Something alive, and warm. Short and bristled - a dog, you figured.

You wrenched your eyes open. They felt so heavy but you were managing to - and finally caught a look around the dim room that you were in. First of all, Jonesy. You were not expecting Lester’s dog to be down here with you, looking up at you, breath so hot against your neck. She let out a little whine, alerting your captors to your wakefulness. Your eyes traveled across the room - a lot of candles, two men, and a lot of machinery. Bo was grinning, adjusting the cap on his head and walked on over to you. “Well good morning there, darlin.”

“Doesn’t feel too good of a morning, Bo,” You admitted. Your head hurt from the fumes of what you had breathed in. Everything looked like it was waving rather than staying still. You were blinking profusely while trying to get a look at the man that was beside Bo. They were about the same height. Only this one had long hair which covered up most of his face. And larger shoulders. “Wha - why was I...”

“We needed a new Miss Ambrose,” Bo said, bending over, hands on the knees of his dirty jeans. He was on eye level with you now. Face to face. Letting you see the steely look that was in his eyes. “And you’re fit to be a beauty queen.”

The words should have been flattering. They were - a little bit. But it felt hard to smile when the situation seemed so dire. “Something tells me this isn’t some sort of preliminary,” You said, looking past him towards the other man. His hair was hanging in his face. Hiding half of it. The half that you could see looked very much like Bo. There was a strong resemblance. Brothers at the least. Twins maybe. Why you were looking at him and not searching for an exit, you didn’t know, but there you were, distracted by the two men. The longer haired man noticed you looking. He turned away almost shyly, insecurely.

“You’re right about that, it’s already been decided,” Bo said, clearly the talker of the two of them. “You’re gonna look real good on that stage.”

You looked back at him again as he spoke. His eyes were so pretty. So close. You could almost lean forward and bite his nose. But you refrained. You were still restrained and his retaliation would probably be brutal. “This is a serial killer thing isn’t it? Should have known. It’s always the attractive ones.”

Did that come out? Were those going to be your famous last words? It was no ‘I’m losing it’ like Frank Sinatra or ‘I’ll show you it won’t shoot’ like Johnny Ace. And the only ones who would know it were these two men. You sighed and leaned back, more against the dog, seeking some sort of comfort in these times. At least the dog wasn’t growling. In fact, Jonesy adjusted herself and laid her head down in your lap. Little ear flapping against your arm. Bo surprised you by chuckling. “You hear that?”

The longer haired man didn’t acknowledge. Not a sound. Bo was laughing again. He looked over his shoulder, daringly. The brief thought of rushing forward with a headbutt came to mind. But he turned back around, looking at you. “Now I don’t normally allow this kinda thing,” He said. “But I kinda like yah. You’ve been nice, respectful. So I’ll ask - got any last words, requests? Except not killin’ yah of course.”

Damn. “That was the only one that I could think of,” You admitted, causing him to chuckle again. You took a deep breath and tried to think. “Umm - okay. Yeah, I have a request, if that’s okay.” He nodded, giving you the floor. “Could you - maybe - take care of my car?”

“Your car?” Bo asked.

“Lester knows where it is. He gave me a ride here - but you probably already know that,” You said, sheepishly. “It’s the only thing that’s actually important to me. I restored her myself. Put all my time and money into her. So, if I can’t  have her, well, at least she should belong to a mechanic.”

“It is a beauty,” Lester said, walking into the room and leaned against the door frame. He looked just as dirty as he had when he had picked you up. How much time had elapsed? Hours? Or maybe you’d been out for a day? You didn’t know. You couldn’t quite tell. “I hooked it up to the truck. I took real good care of it though, y/n. Real good care.” He gave you a grin, showing off the crooked teeth. Despite yourself, you smiled. You already resigned yourself. You weren’t much of a fighter. And like you told Bo, you didn’t have much that was important to you.

“Thank you for that, Lester,” You said, giving him an appreciative yawn. “And - can I make one more request?”

“‘m listening, darlin,” Bo said, looking amused.

“Could I just have like - a one hour cuddle with Jonesy here, if she’s up for it? She’s a real good dog. I really like her. And I promise I won’t hurt her. She just brings back good memories,” You looked away from the men, down at the dog whose head had raised up when Lester came into the room. “I won’t fight, and - I don’t think anyone would come looking for me anyway. It’ll  be real easy for you.”

The large one with the hair put a hand on Bo’s shoulder and pulled him back. Bo was taken a bit by surprise and lashed out, throwing his hand away. Pushing him off. You were used to seeing violence in front of you, it was hardly a bother. But when he was pushed, the hair moved aside to reveal - wax. A wax face. You kept your gasp from coming out of your lips by loweing your head down onto the warm back of Jonesy. She smelt like mud and - wet dog. Not the best combination. But it was comforting. It kept you feeling ... secure. You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to die. But at least you had an animal cuddle beforehand.

There were sounds of movement. You didn’t watch. You closed your eyes and kept your head against the dog. Bo was speaking back, but his tone was low. Lester too. You recognized his own particular drawl. They seemed like they were arguing over something.

But then fingers snapped in close to your face, making you startle upwards. Bo had gotten close again. A whiff of aftershave and motor oil. You met his eyes, unwavering. “Yeh can have your dog cuddles,” He said, giving into that. “And I’ll take care of your car.”

“Thank you-”

“And we’re not gonna kill you,” He finished. Your eyes went wide with delight, but then faltered. There were a lot of things that were worse than death. You could be tortured. You could be assaulted. You could be forced into listening to horrible pop music. “But there’s a catch.”

Of course there was. You waited patiently to hear, scared of what his charming voice was going to say. Be their sex slave or lure in other victims or - an array of things were crossing through your mind. When he realized you weren’t going to ask out loud, he smirked. “My brother -” He motioned his head towards the large man. “Vincent-

You gasped, making him pause. Four sets of eyes were on you now. That included Jonesy’s because her head lifted up and she was looking at you, blinking slowly after the sudden noise that you let out. “I’m sorry, I-” You said, looking back towards Vincent. “I saw your name up at the House of Wax. Your work, I’m guessing? It was really good.” And now things were flashing in your head. Putting things together. The story told about the family that owned the museum. The woman. Were these, perhaps, the kids? Bo and Vincent? Lester? The matte-ness of the side of the face that Vincent was trying to hide behind his hair. Wax. It could be wax. Which also brought to mind - you hadn’t seen anyone else since being here. Not a single living soul. No cars on the streets. No receptionist at the House of Wax. No customers at the garage. Imagination was going wild now. Could this be a - a town of wax?

Vincent stood, his feet slightly apart, hair over his face again. But he nodded. You could see the motion. That was his work. That made him seem a little less threatening somehow. How could someone who created such beautiful things, be bad?

“Right,” Bo said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like being interrupted. “As I was saying, my brother Vincent. He makes all the wax sculptures now. And he finds you to be rather ... what’s the word that you used?”

“I think he used inspirin’,” Lester spoke up. Bo pointed at him without looking, like yes, that was it.

“Inspiring,” Bo repeated, in his not-as-thick accent. “That’s what he said. So here it is. You’re gonna stay here with us in Ambrose. No attempting to get away or I’ll be smashing that car of yours to pieces-” You flinched at the very thought, “- so don’t even go thinking about it. And you’re going to be Vincent’s model. You understand?”

“I think so,” You said, though you weren’t quite sure how you were going to model for wax. It didn’t seem as if there was much of a choice either way.

“Good. Have your time with Jonesy. You’re gonna be busy tonight.”

--

Bo went through the things that were inside of your car. He took out anything that might be dangerous. Anything that might be used as a weapon. So essentially, you were left with a couple of your paperbacks, and your clothing. They didn’t trust you to be in your own room so often, you were switched between the three. Bo’s room at the main house, Lester’s shack or Vincent’s workroom.

Lester was real nice to you. When you weren’t working, he’d bring you on walks sometimes. Going around the perimeter of the town. Bringing carcasses to the boneyard which stank to high heaven in the hot Louisiana sun. Jonesy usually came along for the walks, staying by your side. She took to you well.

Vincent rarely left his studio. Sometimes he would go through the House of Wax and pick something up that was no longer perfect and bring it down to work on it. You were learning from him, learning a lot. Once he realized that you were somewhat interested in the process, he would slow down and show you how it worked. He still did not talk, and he still hid himself from the world behind the hair, trying to avoid letting anyone see his wax face, but you picked up on a little bit of sign language. Enough to get what he means most of the time.

But Bo. He watched over you the most. He was the most untrusting out of the three of them. If it was his turn to babysit you, as he’d say, you were always within eyeline. When he washed your car, when he ate dinner, when he put his feet up at the end of the day and watched tv. He also didn’t really like to be interrupted in any of these things. You opened your mouth, he grunted. Speak when spoken to. But apart from that bit of your feelings getting hurt, he didn’t do anything to wound you. He never even restrained you. Not while you were sleeping, which you usually had to do in bed with one of the boys, or while they were watching over you. It was usually Bo that you had to share with. You were on more of the same schedule. At first, it was terrifying. This man had hurt you, restrained you, and was now kidnapping you essentially. You stayed awake all through that initial night and he didn’t do a thing. No moves. No touching. No hurting. He had his back to you and that was that. He snored like a dog though. Or a pig.

You found out exactly what your position was when Lester brought back word that there were going to be some people coming into Ambrose. You were hidden with Vincent right away. You sat in his cot with your legs crossed in anticipation of what was going to happen. People. Real people - and it seemed like the guys had a sort of plan for it. You were patient. You didn’t have much else of a choice. Vincent wouldn’t even let you go near the door. He watched you carefully when you got yourself a glass of water. This was a no running away sort of situation. He also made sure that you made no noise. Anything that might get their attention. And to his surprise, and your own, you did nothing but stay quiet.

“Sick a’ doin’ your job for you,” Bo said, dragging someone unconscious into the room. You remained on the bed, but looked with wide eyes. Bo just let him drop. A man. Dark hair. Quite big, actually. Bigger than Bo and Vincent. “Now I gotta go check on the girl. Looks like y/n here might have some competition for the Miss Ambrose contest,” He said, and winked over at you. The man beneath groaned, but Bo paid him no attention. “You still have my vote though, darlin’.”

This wasn’t the first time that there were these little nicknames. Sweetheart. Honey, Darlin. The last one tended to be his favorite. And despite yourself, it did make you feel nice to be called that. He didn’t use any of those words for his brothers, obviously. It felt like it might have just been for you. Only for you.

“Thanks Bo,” You said, letting your legs dangle off the bed but didn’t get up. He gave you a wicked grin and a chuckle before heading out of there, wearing some nice clothes with only a little blood upon the sleeve. Barely noticable. Vincent went over to the body, looked at it with his head tilted then picked it up. Set down on the table that was in the middle of the room. Restrained him down. The guy was starting to wake up. Bo must not have used as much force on this one as he had on you.

You got out of the bed. Vincent looked at you. You put your hands up. “I just - I want to see what you’re doing. May I? I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

His hair was over his shoulders now, showing off the waxy face. The eye holes were so dark, you could barely see anything through them. But you could feel his eyes. He nodded. You moved off to the side away from the door and took a seat in the chair. He stared at you for a full moment before finally turning back to the man that was on the table, satisfied that you were not going to be a nuisance.

Scissors went up the man’s shirt, exposing flesh. A needle jabbed into his skin. The man was groaning. As his noises grew louder, Vincent looked over at you again, like he was expecting you to have something to say about this. To try to stop him. You gave him a weak smile, and stayed in your chair.

You were curious what was going to happen. Or how this guy ended up here on the table. Who he was, what his life had been like to this point, who was the girl that Bo had talked about. Curiosity took over good sense. As long as you were here, on the chair, and not on the table, you were on good terms with the Sinclairs. That’s the way it needed to be. It wasn’t even so bad sometimes. Better for you than this guy.

Vincent wasn’t a talker. He didn’t go through his process. He cut up the pants of the man, leaving him in his underwear. Started pouring wax over -

Wax.

All of the statues that you had seen throughout the town. The exquisite faces. Some were obviously older than others, and had a more artificial look but some were impeccable. You didn’t doubt Vincent’s ability. But now you were learning. Now you were thinking. Why were there no other souls in Ambrose...

The man’s face was washed down. He was whimpering. Vincent sewed up the injuries that were on him. Bo hadn’t been kind. There were gashes on the chest, the upper arms. These could be covered with a shirt, if it had long sleeves. But you could sense how Vincent was annoyed by the amount of prep work that he had to do. Still, he kept looking to you. And then back down. That long hair. Brushing against the man’s torso as Vincent worked.

After another moment of watching, you cleared your throat. Vincent tensed, and his whole body moved towards you. The man on the table was trembling. Was looking to you for help. But instead you removed one of your hairties from your wrist, they’d been in your pack and you resumed your old habit of keeping them on you most of the time, and held it out to Vincent tentatively. When he didn’t take it, you mimed tying your own hair back. He gave a grunt, but he also took it, and pushed his hair out of the way. It still bunched in his face but it didn’t trail down as much anymore. You stayed in your seat after that, making next to no noise. Jonesy was the loudest one in the room. Making whimpering sounds.

Waxing the face - literally using wax to remove all facial hair. And then he was put into some kind of contraption. That’s when you stopped watching. That’s when Vincent would need you, beckoning you over towards the stairs which lead up to the museum. You followed, dutifully. You could hear the machines at work down there. Loud. There was no missing it.

Vincent was being more gentle than usual. He took hold of your arm once you were up, but without any real force. Just holding you out of habit to make sure you didn’t leave. Out to one of the grand rooms. The piano room. He urged you to sit down through little pushes and motions, so you did. You sat down on the bench, and then your part in this became clear. Posing. You were going to be the inspiration behind what the man down there and turned into. You had to get the position right so that Vincent could get it right for the man down there. Jesus Christ.

He put your hands on the piano keys. “I don’t know how to play,” You admitted to Vincent. You looked up in time to see the very human reaction of rolling his eyes behind the wax mask. It made you smile a little to see him look almost normal for a second there. Like an exasperated teenager. But that didn’t last long. He pushed your fingers down this time. So you did your best. You were no Mozart. No Chopin. Not even a Taylor Swift. But you could manage Chopsticks well enough. The piano was out of tune, which was why it was always music playing from speakers and not anyone really playing the piano but nonetheless, the sound echoed throughout the room. It made it sound more cheery. More alive.

Vincent watched. He was always doing that. And then he stopped you. He posed you. Like you were nothing but a doll. But he was so gentle about it now. Trusting. He posed you, raising one finger a little more elegantly, guiding your foot to the pedal underneath, pushing your head up and forward rather than looking down like you had played this song a thousand times before. He then took polaroids. Old school polaroids of everything. From the tilt of your neck to your fingers. You didn’t dare move. You held that position until you felt like you were cramping, and then beyond that. Until the moment Vincent gave that grunt that he was done. Then you were able to relax, and follow him back down to the basement. You joined Jonesy on the bed, cuddling her, putting your face into her fur and breathing in that warm animal smell. She accepted it and licked your arm back in affection.

The process continued. The pose was taken from your pictures, which Vincent carefully studied, and put onto this strange man. He was still conscious. He was still trying to speak. You didn’t give him anything to hold onto. You didn’t give him any help. In fact, you were helping Vincent a little more. Demonstrating how you had held your fingers. Getting it right. Everything was fitted and sculpted completely, and then the man was entirely covered in wax. It shot out. Covered his head. Covered his face. Cementing him, in a way, into the correct position. And though you were frightened - it was completely fascinating. Watching Vincent work. How he relaxed as he came to realize that you weren’t going to try to escape, try to help this man escape, or attack him while he was distracted with work. Vincent didn’t ask you to help you move him after everything was complete. But you offered anyway. He nodded, preferring you inside of his sight, anyhow. Especially with Bo out there chasing some girl around. The idea made you a bit ... uncomfortable. Either Stockholme Syndrome was playing at you strong or .... or you might actually have started to fall for all of Bo’s southern charm. He could be a real asshole, there was no mistaking that, but when he called you darlin with that drawl, those little flirtations, when he’d brush by you as you laid together in bed... it caused something. Something was stirring.

Jonesy followed along like a little shadow. She took to you the same as she took the Sinclairs. Like you were a new owner. The House of Wax was silent save for the footsteps of the three of you against the ground as Vincent heaved this new figure upstairs. He was strong. The man had been tall. Over six foot, you’d guess. Taller than Vincent and he loomed quite a bit. And then the addition of all of the wax on top of that. Intimidatingly strong.

The man was set in place on the piano. Everything was exactly as it should be. Not a hair out of place. Vincent stood back to look at his handiwork, examining it with an artist’s eye before finally letting out a grunt of satisfaction. The nice moment didn’t last long, though. The front doors opened. And it wasn’t Lester or Bo. Their walks, the sounds they made, they were well known. Vincent pointed towards the door to go down, and then pushed you in that direction. You didn’t need to be told twice.

Down in Vincent’s room, you waited. You sat on top of the twin bed and had your knees up to your chest, watching the door. That lasted a little while. Your breath was caught in your throat, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You - you were innocent. But you weren’t exactly a victim, were you? In the eyes of the law, you’d be seen as an accomplice. Thinking about that, you looked around at all of the materials. Vincent hadn’t put any of them away. A real sharp knife was calling your name, glinting in the light.

The night seemed to go on forever. There were some banging noise from upstairs. Jonesy barked. Next to nothing for a little while. And then footsteps coming down the stairs. They weren’t the same heavy thud as Vincent’s. Not the slightly limping Lester. Nor the confident strides of Bo. You got up from the bed and stood near the door, holding the handle in your hands. You were trembling. Somewhere along the line, the idea of strangers became terrifying. Of being dragged out of this place, this little perfect place. The people weren’t real, but that meant that you didn’t have social anxiety, there was always seats open at the movie theater, you only had to worry about the opinions of three people who decided to keep you.

The door opened cautiously. That also was not like the boys. So as soon as you saw a figure step inside, you lurched forward, knife in hand, and stabbed it right into the jugular of the man that was walking in. Short buzzed hair. Definitely not want one of the brothers. He flailed in panic, putting his hand up to his neck where the knife was jutting out, blood already gushing down from the wound. It happened so fast. He fell into the room, down onto the ground. His eyes were on you. And they were furious. Not confused, not startled, but full of hatred. It didn’t take long for him to die. And it didn’t take long for you to take the knife out of his neck and put it back in on the other side to make sure that he was dead. He died with that red-hot look in his eyes.

Everything was back to silence. You backed up towards the bed again, your hand and wrist and your shirt having blood speckles all over. You waited. Eventually the door swung open again, but you weren’t armed, and you weren’t lunging. It was Bo, who nearly tripped over the body while jogging in. “Well, lookie here,” He said, slowing his roll. His eyes darted to you and a grin went across his face. It looked like what your arms looked like. Blood splatter. He crouched down. Put his hand around the man’s neck and gave it to squeeze to see if there would be any reaction. His fingers curled around the knife. “Look what you did, beauty queen.”

You swallowed. You held onto your legs. “I - I ... he might have attacked me, I don’t know. You said something about a girl, I wasn’t expecting a man.”

“Oh, I got her too darlin. Don’t be getting jealous now,” Bo winked at you. He wiped his hand on the man’s hoodie. The dark color covered that of the blood. “Vincent’s gonna be happy. And you’re gonna have a lot of work to do. These intruders fucked up our town. Got rid of some our long-time residents.”

“And he was the last one?” You asked, motioning your head towards the man on the ground. Bo nodded, and got to his feet, still grinning. He looked ecstatic. Like all of this had been some sort of euphoria for him.

“My my my,” He said, crossing his arms and looked at you. “Aren’t you a surprise.”

--

A lot of work had to be done. There was one that had been unsalvageable. You had to ride with Lester to take it down to the bone pit. You didn’t know how Jonesy could survive the stench. Your nose wasn’t nearly as gifted as hers and you were retching by the time you got close. Lester did laugh at you a bit, and then took a little mercy and gave you a bit of vapo-rub to put under your nose to make you smell something different. It helped a bit. Getting away from it was the only cure though. Lester kept giving you that shit eating grin all the way home, and you knew, with a sink of your heart, that Bo and Vincent were going to be hearing about your embarrassing reaction.

There was the posing. Long hours spent in different positions, Vincent taking pictures. Bo took an interest in watching this more recently. In fact, his eyes had been wandering to you a lot more than usual lately. He was sitting back with a beer while you stood, dancing with a female mannequin. This was going to be the man that you had killed. He was going to be standing in the same place where you were now. And there was something almost - nice about it, the more that you thought on the topic. That he’d be living forever in this beautiful museum.

“What do you think?” Lester asked, plastering up one of the damaged walls. “She look like a dancer to you, Bo?”

“Hmm, somethin’ ain’t quite right,” Bo said, making Vincent pause in his picture taking. He set his beer onto the ground and stood up, walking over. “No, no. There’s no way you know enough about dancin’ to be takin’ the lead.”

“Would you like to take my place then?” You asked, giving him a surprising amount of attitude. The brothers had become more lax around you since you had killed a man in cold blood. They gave you a little more freedom. You were allowed to drive your car through the town, but there were still roadblocks leaving Ambrose. You could do little more than small circles meant more for go-karts than a real drive, but you wanted to keep your car in working condition. And you were even allowed in the theater by yourself. But you never really talked back. The boys were harder to be comfortable around than the city itself.

“How about a lesson instead? I’m no fuckin’ model. That’s all you, beauty queen,” He stated, walking over, moving the wax woman out of the way.

“A dancing lesson?” You asked, swept up by him as he came in close. You could smell the bitter ale upon his breath. His calloused hands, dirty underneath the fingernails, took hold of yours and pulled you in close. “I’m surprised you know how to. You don’t really seem the type.”

“Now now,” He tsked. “Don’t go saying things like that, it’ll sound like you’re insultin me.” Your chest was up against his. Hie one arm went around your waist while his other  hand stayed planted on yours, off to the side. Vincent turned up the radio. It was playing an old fashioned song which fit the feel of the party room. The first guy whom you had seen turned into a wax figure was still there, being the piano, looking as if he were playing it. The waltz. You didn’t know the name of the musician, but you at least knew a little of what you were supposed to do to the music.

Bo was, surprisingly, a good lead. Alright, so he had a smirk on his face which showed that he was enjoying being in control, but it was still almost a dream like moment. He stepped forward, and you stepped back in time with the music. Your bodies worked in harmony together. When you got something wrong due to inexperience, he’d give a grunt and correct you. There wasn’t any sort of compliment when you did well. Just that same smugness like he was taking the credit for it.

He finished off the dance by posing you himself. This was the first time that he had ever done it. It was usually Vincent’s hands that guided you into the position that he wanted. Bo had that same careful look in his eye, the artist examining his work, before stepping away. “Now that’s how you fuckin’ lead,” He laughed. “Bring the doll.”

“Never let him forget his fancy feet,” Lester muttered to you, making you grin as he brought forward the female doll that you had been posing with. A grunt from Vincent took it off of your face, not because he was mad that you were smiling, but any movement might mess with your posture.

“Never,” You repeated to Lester, causing the redneck to laugh.

---

Bo drank a lot. Sometimes he’d take your car to the next city over and come back with only a couple of cases of beer. He’d forget the groceries, and Lester would have to take a second trip. You learned not to expect Bo coming into the house with a bagful of groceries. Just the damn beer. You weren’t much for it yourself. The bitter taste. Even the smell of it. You were the one who often picked up and stored the empties for Lester to take back, since Bo would always forget.

It all felt very domestic. And oddly, stable. After your show of killing the intruder, the new waltzer, they trusted you more. You weren’t being constantly monitored when you walked through the house or through the town. Just as long as you were back for dinner. To make dinner, more like. You were given more responsibilities, like cooking and cleaning.  ‘Because we spared you, Beauty Queen. You owe us,’ Bo was fond of reminding you.

It was often the smell of beer that announced his presence to you. When it was him that walked into the kitchen to see what you were making. It lingered like a cloud in the air, through his breath, seeping out of his pores. “Who said you could use the big knife?” He asked, grabbing it from you as you were attempting to chop up some lettuce for a salad.

“A butterknife wouldn’t cut through this,” You said, putting one hand on your hip, looking up at Bo. The burst blood vessels in his face, the redness of his nose, he’d been drinking for a while. “I need that.”

“I’ll tell you what you need,” He stated. “I need you to hurry up and make dinner, I’m starving.”

“I can’t do that unless you give me the knife, darlin,” You said, using his own word against him. He could get erratic sometimes when he drank, a little rougher, more violent. And having that knife in his hand was intimidating. He looked at it and then at you, then at the lettuce and the rest of the vegetables on the chopping board. He was realizing that you had a point. It was a whole head of lettuce. The butterknives would take an eternity. But he still didn’t feel right letting you handle the sharp knives like that. He’d seen what you could do with them.

“You just worry about the stove, darlin,” He said it right back. It affected you quite a bit. Sent a warm feeling through your body. “I’ve got this.”

You wanted to ask if he was sure but he was already giving you nudges away from the counter. The knife came down hard against the wooden board, chopping through the lettuce. Again. And again. Getting beers from the fridge, yes. Heating up microwave dinners, sure. But Bo, making a salad? That was something never before seen.

You got out of the way. He did the lettuce rather roughly. A lot of larger pieces compared to some smaller ones. But you didn’t say a word. Didn’t feel right to criticize it at this point. He pushed what he had already cut aside and you were the one to carefully reach over and put it in the bowl. The same with the rest of the vegetables. The watery scent of cucumbers and then the tanginess of dressing covered up that beer smell. He left his in the living room where he’d been sitting on his favorite Laz-e boy, watching TV. You could almost catch the scent of his laundry detergent as well, coming off of the plaid flannel he was wearing. You liked it a lot better.

You had to stop to focus on the stove. To stir the pasta sauce in with the noodles. And then started to make up the four plates and Jonesy’s bowl. Jonesy always got a portion, she was one very spoiled girl. “I’ll go tell Vincent dinner is ready-” You said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel and started to head out of the kitchen. A finger hooked into the belt loop of your pants and pulled you back, surprising you and nearly making you fall.

“I didn’t excuse you,” Bo said, pulling you right into his arms. You hadn’t been that close to him since the waltzing lesson a couple of days before. Everything had gone right back to back-to-back sleeping in bed when you shared with him. You had assumed that might be what he wanted, even with all of his flirting. But now he was sending out a different signal. He was so close. Breath against your face. Back to beer smell. “You should know better.”

“Sorry, Bo,” You said, no attitude this time. “May I go and tell Vincent that dinner is ready?”

“Vincent, Vincent, Vincent, do you love that guy or something?” He scoffed. “You gonna run off and tell Lester too?”

“Well,” You said, eyebrows furrowed. “I was planning on it, yes.”

Bo’s eyes rolled dramatically. “They’re grown men, they can get their own dinner. Fuck knows they’ve been doing it since before you came along. We had lives before you. And we’ll have lives after you.”

It didn’t feel as much like a threat as it sounded. If they were going to kill you, you figured, they would have done so by now. They had ample opportunity. Your place in the beauty pageant was still open. The new girl, the one that Bo had a hard time getting but ended up besting, was the runner-up. Vincent was working on her next. She’d have a sash and all. But they let you keep your place here, in the Sinclair house.

As long as you didn’t piss them off.

“And you’ll have a life while I’m here,” You said, cheerfully. “And that includes not letting your brothers starve, or have to fend for themselves. Did any of you even eat vegetables before I started asking you to pick them up?”

“Hey,” He said, his voice rough. He pulled you in closer. Chest to chest. “Lester makes a real mean dandelion salad.”

“I don’t know if that really counts as vegetables, but it’s better than junk food, I’m sure,” You muttered. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. His breathing was steady. “I can always put some in the fridge for them to eat later, if you don’t want to eat with them tonight..”

“Fuck, you’re just ready to please, ain’t ya darlin?” He said with a laugh, keeping you in place with his arms. They crossed around your back, resting against your waist. “If I tell you to jump, you gonna ask how high?”

Your mouth grew dry, and you felt more than a little embarassed. He was right. You would ask exactly that. “My life is in your hands,” You admitted honestly.

“That’s not the only thing,” He smirked, moving his hands lower to cup your ass. Your eyes went wide and you jumped in place, not expecting that. He laughed at you again, and gave you a harder squeeze. “You sure you wanna call up the boys and have them see you like this?”

You gulped. It was a very compromising position. Especially since you weren’t fighting it. His touch was warm and - you felt wanted by Bo. Fuck, Stockholme Syndrome coming in strong. “I - umm -” You were stammering. Not a good sign. Either you were giving in a little to their banter with little bits of sarcasm, or like he had said, easy to please. Not a mess like this. Not since the beginning. “No-” You squeaked, making him smirk all the more.

“Didn’t think so.”

Lifting you with those arms which carried so many people over his shoulder, both living and dead, he brought you up onto the counter. You were surrounded with the carrot skins and leftover little bits of lettuce but you didn’t notice them. You were looking at the handsome Sinclair who was still wearing that filthy cap that he refused to let you wash. He wormed his way in between your legs, pushing them aside with his thighs. He was so tall. He overpowered you still, even in this higher up position. He had to stop feeling you up in order to get you up on the counter, and now his calloused hand, filthy fingernails, took a violent hold on your chin, thumb pressing almost deep enough to leave a dimple.

Heart beating rapidly. What a cliche. He came in quick, and fast, knowing exactly what he wanted and taking it. The kiss was as rough as you had imagined it to be. There wasn’t much that was soft about this man. His lips weren’t waxy smooth like Vincent’s created ones. No, this was a man who sometimes bit on his bottom lip when he was getting pissed off. The mouth of someone who swore like a sailor. The mouth of someone who knew how to fucking use it. His tongue was out, bringing the taste of beer to your mouth, not just the scent of it closer to your face. And you let him. You created the entryway. You opened your mouth willingly and let him explore. There was no easing into it. He was in like a man who knew his way around.

It was rough. Your lips tingled when he pulled away. A near-painful sensation. Had he bitten you? It felt like it. Even though he left your lips, he kept his thumb on your chin, a little smirk on his features. “You’ve been waitin’ for that, haven’t yah?”

“Um-” You said, lower lip trembling.

“Don’t fuckin lie to me.”

“Yes,” You said, following his instructions. “I’ve been hoping for something like that.”

“You’re a sick puppy, ain’t yah? You see what we do here. And you still wanna be ours?”

Ours? Now that made your heart skip a beat and then struggle to catch up. Ours. The Sinclairs. You shook your head as much as his touch was able to let you, which wasn’t much, but enough to get your point across. Mouth still dry, you said, “Not ours. Only yours.”

With Bo, there was always a right answer. Everything was black and white. You either said exactly the right thing or you were in the wrong. You held your breath waiting to find out if you fucked up or not.

But that smirk turned into something more. A smile. A real Bo smile. The likes of which you haven’t seen sice he had charmed you into trusting him when you came into town.

“Fucking right, mine,” He said, and came in again. His fingers dropped from your chin since you weren’t tugging away. In fact, your arms flung around him, pulling him in closer. He put his cards on the table by instigating, and you had put yours down by reacting. It was so wrong, wasn’t it? He was a killer. Your kidnapper. But he was also the sexiest man that you had ever seen in your goddamn life. And gentle with Vincent. And a funny little shit. Fuck, you had it bad, but it felt so good.

“I see someone’s gettin’ into dessert before dinner,” A voice cackled from the doorway. Bo pulled away from you so quickly at that, it gave you whiplash. Thudding boots against the ground. Lester laughing and sounds of furniture being pulled.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill yeh’,” Bo could be heard shouting. Vincent came up to see what the noise was but quickly got distracted by the sight of all the food. You made him a plate, and he sat down, his large frame hunched while he was at the dining room table, and ignored the madness coming from the other room.

“INDIAN BURN!”

“Ahh, shit Bo, stop -”

“Say Uncle - Say Uncle -”

“I’ll never surrender!”

More furniture scuffling, grunting coming from the living room. Struggling noises. You looked over to Vincent who was eating his food slowly. He constantly wiped at his wax face with a napkin, self-consciously. “Should I go in there, do you think?” You asked him. He looked at you, straight on, eye to eye contact, which was quite rare for him. And he shook his head, no. Vehemently.

“BO AND Y/N, SITTIN IN A TREE. K - I - S - S - I - N - G!” Lester’s laugh was loud. Bo’s anger was louder. The sound of a breaking lamp now. Vincent shook his head again, but this time like an annoyed parent. You took one last look at the doorway, and then made up your own plate and sat across from Vincent. He even kicked your chair out for you, which made you smile at him. And you finally got a smile back.

It was moments like this that really made you remember that these aren’t just three men who work together. They were brothers. And they were behaving like brothers. It made you wonder what they had been like as kids - but you stopped that thought in your tracks. You had seen Bo’s scars on the rare occasions when he was wearing a t-shirt. Mostly while working on your car. The high chair with the bindings. Vincent’s poor face. It wouldn’t have been a good childhood. So maybe it was good that they were getting some of that out now.

“Yeah, we fuckin were, until SOMEONE interrupted us!”

“Shoulda put a tie on the door - OW, FUCK-”

“Gotcha Les, now you’re gonna scream Uncle.”

“We ain’t got any uncles!”

“You’re a fucking idiot, just SAY it.”

“Get off me, your fat ass weighs a ton-”

“One ... two ...”

“Alright, fucking UNCLE.”

A few moments later, both of the men came back into the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear. Hair ruffled. Clothes disheveled. Bo gave Lester a push inside, making the lighter-haired young man stumble forward towards the counter. Lester scowled, until he looked over at you, caught your eye, and winked. Instantly, you felt your cheeks growing pink, and looked down at your plate, feeling caught. Oh, these boys. Only one of them could call you theirs but you called them all yours.

[cherryskyies]

What your favorite slasher says about you — part two

includes: og michael myers, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair

this is just the start of my slasher writing. so far, they are winning on the poll, so what better way to start than to finish old pieces?

please bare w me, my writing is a smidge rusty ok 😔

Masterlist || Navigation || a03

Og Michael Myers

I can't explain it well, but he is the equivalent of that inner cold feeling when you were at your lowest. You can still remember it in memories and it's a comfort you can't let go. It's giving major attachment issues, even to things that ruined you. Letting go of your past is like letting go of yourself — you can't do it.

You weren't listened to growing up either, and maybe even now you still aren't. Advice was given, especially when you didn't want it. You're desperate to have someone just listen.

Alone time is a must in your life, you can't have someone all up in your business 24/7. 

Probably a water sign with an air moon. Or a Taurus who never had stability.

Rough sex is a must. I mean, it's Michael. Rough is the only way you'll get it and you like it like that. Also, it's giving blood & knife play vibes.

Very independent. You'd rather die than have to depend on another person for necessities. 

Bo Sinclair

It's giving possible substance abuse or alcoholism. I mean, you only drink Monday-Sunday?? What's the harm in that?

You crave possession in a relationship. Maybe you never felt special, so it's a must to have a partner willing to kill for you and show you off.

Bondage is definitely an interest of yours. You might be into forced submission and definitely into being covered in marks. 

It's also giving daddy issues. Something about an older man calling you baby and sweetheart sends you into overdrive. You want him to provide and you want him to make most of the decisions while you sit pretty.

You've never experienced a stable relationship either, especially with men, so you don't care that he'd be toxic. You only care that he's there and not likely to leave. 

Probably an earth sign or neglected fire sign.

Vincent Sinclair

Either an only child or the ignored one — maybe both.

Body worship is a must. Nothing more attractive than a man that makes you feel special, loved, and seen.

You don't care about money or expensive dates and trips. You'd be happy with a picnic and spending alone time together, because to you it means more than anything money could buy. 

Definitely insecure yourself, so you're drawn to those with obvious flaws; not that you think he's flawed, but it gives a deeper understanding.

Actions mean more than words. You've likely been let down by those who have said they would do something, but never did. 

Soft, meaningful sex is your style. If you can't feel an emotional connection or you don't feel loved during, then you aren't happy and begin to feel insecure in the relationship. 

You enjoy peace and tranquility. Maybe you're an artist or it simply fascinates you due to the complexity and millions of meanings. Do you stay up and think about the past and it's art, wondering what was going through their minds and what they had witnessed to create it?

[slasherstories123]

Think you can write where The female S/O dates Bo Sinclair, while being aware that Vincent was mesmerized by his twin brother's S/O girlfriend? She was sweet and kind to Vincent, but when she saw how cruel and heartless Bo was with his brother, and calling him a freak. When she stood up to Bo, he breaks up with her. Then near the end that Vincent actually gets a chance with the S/O that he loved. The S/O would be very complementive of his artwork

New beginning

Word count: 1.1k

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @mrs-heelshire @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @beel-mcburger @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @emychan @pink-apollo @misscaller06 @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @charliedawn

You and Bo have been dating only for a few months, but you paid attention to his twin's eyes in the back. Always watching, practically mesmerized by you. He wanted you, but Bo got to you instead, even then, you still treated Vincent the same. Always tending to his wounds during a bad fight with a victim and just caring for him in general. You always thought they were the complete opposite on many levels. You didn’t mind, until Bo would become more cold hearted towards his own brother. Always calling him names and makes him feel more bad than he already does. It pained you to see him like this, but you never said anything,not feeling like getting yelled at, secretly comforting Vincent when you had the chance. You never wanted him to feel bad, even apologizing for Bo’s actions to the man.

Vincent forgave you, always telling you it’s not your fault, that’s just how he is, and he’ll always be like that. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. How can he be so flirty towards you but turn around and treat his brother like trash. His family. You hated it, even if you did try to talk about it he’d blow a fuse thinking you’re just taking his side. Which is half true. Vincent always works hard in taking care of victims, always cooped up in the basement and getting hurt when victims come, he deserves to be treated fairly, just like Bo.

One night, you’ve had enough. Bo's loud voice nearly shook the house as he yelled at his brother for coming back home late.It was bad enough he was in a bad mood due to a victim hurting his arm. You rubbed your temple to try and calm yourself down, hating it when he yelled, wondering how he doesn’t get sore throats. Each word that came out of his mouth was painful, even you could feel it, seeing Vincent sulk his head in shame.

The next words that came out of his mouth made you freeze. “You’re nothing but a freak! Get the hell out of my sight!” You stood up from your chair and slapped Bo dead in his face, causing his baseball cap to fall off. The slap caught the attention of both men. He looked at you in shock, but it quickly turned into anger. “The hell you do that for?” He yelled.

Even Vincent was shocked himself, but still stayed in the near corner. “Are you fucking serious Bo? That’s your brother! Your TWIN brother! Besides Lester and I, he’s all you have! You can’t treat him like dirt!” The angry man turned to you, yelling at you now. Vincent wanted to stay, but he decided not to, slowly sliding away and going down to his basement. You kept going at each other's throats, almost like a yelling contest, seeing who could be louder. You stood up for Vincent until the end, cursing at bo, saying how horrible of a brother he is to Vincent.

“He’s your BROTHER Bo!”

“Yeah? So what if the freaks my brother?”

“Your words can affect him! Don’t you realize that?!”

“Well if you like the freak so bad then go be with him then! This stupid relationship is over!”

He yelled in your face before storming off, door slamming behind him. You leaned against the table. Sitting down in the chair, body shaking due to too many emotions now coming at you: Anger, sadness, guilt, remorse. You had your face in your arms, tears of frustration built up in your eyes. Bo’s words cut deep, even to you, and he barely said anything to you, but it still hurt, hurts to know that he broke up with you because you decided to stick up for Vincent, it meant nothing,just wanting him to treat his brother fairley, like he’s a human being.

You never questioned why Vincent wears his mask, but you know it’s something personal and that Bo of all people should respect that, but he didn’t, and now you’re caught in this mess. You don’t regret sticking up for him though. It was worth it. But now you’d slowly have to put yourself back together. Despite Bo being a jerk to his brother.. He was still somewhat charming, but you still chose him, Vincent always watched you from afar, admired you, sometimes you think he was sad that you chose Bo over him. Sometimes, you even wonder what you see in him to make you fall in love with him. A soft tap of a shoulder caused you to flinch, picking your head up, it was just Vincent. He had a sketchbook in his hands. Sitting by you, he saw a tear escape your eyes. Slowly raising his hand to wipe it away, you smiled at the gesture.

“I’m.. so sorry you had to hear that..” The man shook his head in response, gently taking your hand with his soft ones. Guiding you to his basement, you didn’t have the strength to even say no. Letting him guide you to his area. It was clean, everything organized. The smell of vanilla candles filled the air, it was comforting. You sat in a chair next to an empty one where he sits by his desk. Vincent eventually sat down. Fiddling with a few pages with the sketchbook. He turned to a certain one, you leaned by his shoulder to look. It was you.

You knew Vincent was good with art, but you never knew how good he can look at your features in his drawings. Even showing little dates of when the art was completed. You were mesmerized yourself, it probably took him hours to make them, realizing that he had thoughts of you. He always had. Despite you being with Bo he stood around. He let you look, there were times you were completely doing nothing, he still drew you like you were the most perfect woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Not missing any sort of detail in your features.

It made you feel a certain way, despite you crying your eyes out a few minutes ago. “Thank you..Vincent. I love it. I love them all. You’re always so talented..” He loved it when you complimented his work, since he works so hard on them. You can’t help but admire his work, the time and effort he puts into each drawing, each sculpture, each painting, but he drew you, his sketchbook was filled with you. You felt at peace down in the basement with him, you always did, but this time it was different.

You felt comforted. Safe. Resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his hand hold yours, rubbing the back of it. Maybe being with Vincent was the best choice from the beginning. You’ll be happier with the man. A new beginning.

[zapreportsblog]

❝forgotten memories❞

✭ pairing : Lester Sinclair x reader x Bo Sinclair x Vincent Sinclair

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : whiles out hunting Lester comes across a beaten and battered young lady in serious need of medical attention so what does he do? He takes the little lass back to his hometown to get treated by his brothers, but she happens to wake up and at first they expect her to freak out since she’s surrounded by three men but the only thing on her mind is why can’t she remember anything but her name

✭ authors note : art work by @kasiawoe found it on Pinterest also this was requested by @shadowraven-02 you sent this in to @fandomnationwhore a while back and I’m here to fulfill it since I’ve taken over doing some of their top requests :) if at any moment you wish to be untagged, do inform me as I have no problem with it I just thought I’d tag you and let you read what you sent in

✭ slasher masterlist

Lester Sinclair had always found solace in the woods. The dense canopy of trees, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of woodland creatures were a symphony of tranquility. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the demands of his hectic life and find a sense of peace.

On this crisp autumn morning, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Lester set out for a hunting expedition. He carried his rifle with practiced ease, each step taken with a careful consideration of his surroundings. His brothers, Bo and Vincent, would join him later, but for now, he relished the solitude.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, Lester's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual amidst the fallen leaves. There, sprawled on the ground, was an unconscious young woman. Her clothes were torn, and her face was marred by a bleeding wound on her forehead. It was a sight that sent a jolt of concern through Lester.

Kneeling beside her, he carefully examined her condition. She was still breathing, albeit shallowly, which was a relief. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face, revealing her pale complexion. Concern etched his features as he noticed the deep bruises marring her arms and legs. It was clear that she had been through some kind of ordeal.

Lester's instinct to help kicked in immediately. He knew he couldn't leave her here, injured and alone in the woods. Carefully, he reached into her pocket and found her wallet. Opening it, he discovered her identification. Her name was (Y/N), a medical student still in college.

With determination in his eyes, Lester decided to take action. He scooped her fragile form into his arms, cradling her gently. She was surprisingly light, making it easier for him to carry her. As he began to make his way back to his pickup truck, he couldn't help but wonder how she had ended up in such a dire situation.

The journey back to his home felt like an eternity, the forest passing by in a blur of green and brown. Lester's mind raced with questions, but his primary focus was ensuring (Y/N)'s safety. He knew his brothers would be just as concerned as he was when they saw her.

When he finally reached the old, rustic house that he shared with Bo and Vincent, Lester carefully carried (Y/N) inside. The warmth of the living room enveloped them, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside. With great care, he laid her down on the couch, his worry deepening as he took a closer look at her injuries.

Bo had been planning to join Lester for the hunting trip, but he arrived later than expected. He pushed open the creaky front door of their rustic home, a cheerful greeting on his lips. "Lester, you out here, buddy?" he called, stepping into the warm and cozy living room.

His voice trailed off when he laid eyes on the unexpected scene before him. His gaze fixed on the unconscious girl lying on the couch, her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the familiar surroundings.

"Who the hell is she?" Bo blurted out, his voice tinged with some kind of emotion though Lester wasn’t sure what.

Lester turned toward his brother, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and confusion. "I found her out back in the woods," he explained, "She was unconscious, and there are bruises on her, and she had this nasty wound on her forehead."

Just as their argument started to brew, the connection between the twins kicked in. Vincent, who had been working away in the basement workshop, felt Bo's growing frustration through their twin link. He abandoned his tools and made his way upstairs, his face a mask of concern. He signed, asking if everything was alright.

Bo's agitation was clear in his voice as he responded to Vincent's silent inquiry. "No, Lester here is putting us all in danger."

Lester frowned at Bo's accusation. "How am I putting us in danger?" he retorted, his voice rising in frustration.

Their argument continued, voices escalating, as neither brother noticed the subtle movement on the couch. (Y/N) began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked in confusion, disoriented by her surroundings and the voices she heard. Her vision was blurry at first, but gradually, the room came into focus.

Vincent, who had been watching the argument unfold, suddenly noticed her awakening. He took a step back, positioning himself between Bo and the girl, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to observe her reaction before drawing attention to her presence.

As (Y/N) began to regain consciousness, she felt a dull ache in her head, which sent a wince across her features. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, and as she sat up, she couldn't help but notice the three men now staring at her. Their expressions ranged from concern to curiosity, and she blinked owlishly at them, her confusion evident.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

Lester, the one who had found her, stepped closer and replied, "You're in my home. We found you in the woods unconscious, and you had some injuries, so we brought you here."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud.

Bo, ever the standoffish one, folded his arms and said, "That's exactly what I'd like to know too."

Vincent, who had been observing silently, stepped forward and signed a question, his hands gracefully moving through the air. However, (Y/N) was caught off guard by the unfamiliar gesture and simply responded with a confused "Huh?"

Lester quickly intervened, introducing his brother. "That's Vincent," he explained, "He was just asking if you're okay."

Still somewhat disoriented, (Y/N) nodded uncertainly. "I think so?" She winced again, a hand gingerly touching the bandage on her forehead. It was clear she had many questions, but her priority was trying to make sense of the situation and her surroundings.

“So how did you get out there.” Lester asks, he watches her brows clench and that’s when his concern deepened as he watched (Y/N) struggle to recall her recent past. He leaned closer and gently asked, "I mean do you remember how you ended up out here in the woods? You're pretty far from town."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to summon any memories that could explain her current situation. However, her efforts were in vain, and her frustration grew as she shook her head, her voice trembling as she admitted, "No, I don't remember."

Bo, always quick with a sarcastic remark, couldn't resist but quip, "Does she even know anything?"

(Y/N), taking Bo's question more seriously than intended, felt panic start to creep in. She tried to think back to her life, her home, her studies, but everything seemed to be shrouded in darkness, leaving only her name as a lone beacon of familiarity. Tears welled up in her eyes as the realization sank in that she couldn't recall anything else.

Vincent, noticing (Y/N)'s distress, reacted impulsively. He smacked Bo on the arm and then swiftly signed at him, "Look, you made her cry."

Bo's temper flared. "I ain't do a goddamn thing to that girl!" he retorted, defensive.

Lester, always the voice of reason among the brothers, interjected firmly, "Enough, you two! We need to help her, not argue." He moved closer to (Y/N) and spoke in a soothing tone. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure this out together. Take a deep breath."

He reached out to offer her a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her panic and bring some clarity to the situation.

Lester gently held (Y/N) in his arms, offering her a comforting embrace as she cried out her fear and confusion. His heart went out to her as he whispered soothing words. "It's okay, (Y/N), you're safe here. Everything's going to be alright. This is just a hiccup in the road. You'll remember, I'm sure of it."

She clung to his words, her sobs gradually subsiding. In his arms, she found a flicker of solace amidst the storm of her lost memories and newfound uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Bo's frustration had not subsided. He was growing increasingly impatient and wary of the stranger in their midst. He couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) was a threat, not just to Ambrose, but to all of them.

In the quiet of the kitchen, Bo took Lester and Vincent aside, his tone hushed but determined. "We need to get rid of her," he declared, his voice filled with urgency.

Lester frowned deeply, appalled by his brother's suggestion. "Bo, we can't just... get rid of her. She's clearly in trouble, and we need to help her."

Bo's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "She's a danger to Ambrose, and she's a danger to us all. We don't know who she is or what happened to her. We can't trust her."

Vincent, ever the voice of empathy and caution, hesitated. He signed his thoughts, "We need to be careful, but killing her? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

Bo was unwavering. "Think about it, Lester. We have no idea who she is or what she's involved in. We can't risk our safety, or Ambrose's."

Lester shook his head firmly. "No, Bo. I won't do it. We'll help her, keep her safe until she remembers. We can't resort to violence."

The tension in the kitchen grew palpable, as the three brothers faced a difficult decision that would shape their future and the fate of the mysterious (Y/N).

Bo's frustration reached its peak, and he reluctantly conceded. "Fine," he grumbled, his jaw clenched. "But she's your responsibility, Lester."

With those words, Bo turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind him. Vincent, sensing his twin's anger and knowing that arguing further would only escalate the situation, hurriedly followed, hoping to calm Bo down and find some common ground.

Lester was left alone in the kitchen, his thoughts swirling as he watched his brothers leave. He knew that taking care of (Y/N) was a responsibility he was willing to shoulder, even if it meant facing uncertainty and danger. She needed their help, and he was determined to be there for her, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

[spookychick78]

Bo Sinclair One Shot

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI, Rough sex, Breeding, Slight CNC, language

It does get a lil fluffy at the end

Word Count: 2,115

You could feel him watching you from the doorway, arms crossed with that smug look on his face. He didn't believe for a second you were actually going to leave. You wouldn't. Then again, watching you stuff that backpack with such determination wasn't at all supporting his initial thought process. He let his gaze dip to try and meet yours, but you refused. Instead of giving him what you knew he wanted, you stayed completely focused on shoving everything you could fit in that bag. He let out laugh in disbelief and rolled his eyes.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he muttered, "you're serious?"

"Yep," you said shortly as you struggled with the zipper.

"You think you can leave me?" He asked with that grin he wore when he was close to losing his temper.

"Yeah, I do," you said as you threw the bag over your shoulder and turned towards him.

He was deadly quiet as you walked up to him, glaring at you from underneath those dark brows of his. You went to push past him, but he wouldn't budge. You let out an aggravated sigh before you looked up at him.

"Come on, Bo. Don't make this harder than it has to be," you said as calmly as you could manage.

He let out that humorless laugh again as he looked you up and down, contemplating, "No."

"What do you mean no?"

He said nothing in response, he just kept glaring. You shook your head at him and forced your way past, though he didn't make it easy. You marched to the front door and flung it open only to slam it shut behind you. You knew better than to even try and take the truck, that would be asking for him to come and find you. You barely made it onto the driveway when sure enough, the door opened once more.

"You just gonna walk, huh? Where the hell are you gonna go?" He yelled after you.

"I'll figure it out," you yelled back, stubbornly.

You didn't quite like the silence that followed. Bo wasn't one to simply let things go. You quickened your pace when you heard his boots on the gravel behind you. Just before you could start running, he grabbed your arm.

"You're not leavin' me, (Y/n)," he said as he forced you to turn around.

"Let go of me, Bo," you said through gritted teeth as you tried to tug your arm out of his tight grip.

That only made him pull you forward harder. You slammed against him and immediately tried to push yourself off of him. You managed to get your arm free, but then he grabbed you by the sides of your shoulders and began to walk you forward.

"What the hell are you doing?" You said as you tried to keep your feet from moving, but the gravel gave you nothing to keep yourself grounded.

"I told you," he said through gritted teeth before he slammed your back against a tree, "you ain't leavin'."

Before you could protest he quickly grabbed you by your jaw and silenced you with a kiss. You pushed him off and went to slap him, but he caught your hand in his. He smiled, enjoying your attempt at fighting back. He looked down at your flared nostrils and damn near hateful expression, amused. You could see the idea forming behind his eyes. No, not this time, you thought to yourself. You wouldn't give in like he always seemed to make you do. It was that damn smile of his, every time, the way he got off on how angry you were and the way his eyes seemed to undress you in the most delicious way. You wanted to hate him for it, but hating Bo wasn't easy. It should have been, he was a stubborn, hot headed son of a bitch, but he loved you. You knew that, as toxic as it was.

It was like he had read your mind, sensed the slight hesitation being pinned by him had brought on. His eyes stayed with yours as he brought your fingers to his mouth. He kissed your finger tips as soft as he could manage and slowly moved down to your palm.

"Bo, what are you doing," you whispered as you tried to ignore the desire that was building between your legs.

His eyes seemed darker now, they always got like that when he was hungry for you and it never failed to make you weak for him. You felt his teeth graze over your skin and the sensation of his hot breath falling into your palm as he let out a chuckle at your question.

"Whatever I want," he said in an almost threatening tone.

Before you could protest any further he flipped you around so your cheek was pressed against the bark of the tree and your back to him. You felt his hand push it's way down the front of your pants while his lips left sloppy, hot kisses on the sweat drenched skin of your neck. It didn't take long for his fingers to find your weak spot. You didn't have to look at him to know that self satisfied smirk had appeared when he felt how wet you were for him. You silently cursed yourself when a whine escaped your lips in response to the sensation of his fingers twirling little circles around your clit.

"I hate you, you know that," you said through gritted teeth as you pressed harder into his touch.

"Really?" He said, his voice husky and breath warm in your ear, "I couldn't tell."

Another moan escaped you when he slipped one of his digits inside. Your fist clenched and pressed against the bark of the tree to keep steady as he pushed further into you. You needed more, but you refused to beg. You knew it would only fuel his already overblown ego further. He knew exactly what you wanted already, no matter what you'd said before.

"Want me to stop?" He breathed, that smirk glued to his face.

He knew you like the back of his hand, knew exactly what moves to make so that you couldn't refuse him. His question was only meant to irritate you, to remind you that no matter how mad you might have been you couldn't deny him. He started to remove his hand from your pants, which caused you to whine at the loss of friction.

"Goddamnit, Bo," you muttered.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back against his chest, "Do you want me to stop?"

You knew you couldn't hide the blatant desire that had no doubt made its way to your eyes by now. You watched him read it, but still, he waited for your answer. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know you wanted him to fuck you senseless right here, right now. And you did. That's exactly what you wanted.

"Never," you breathed as your eyes flickered down to his lips.

It didn't go unnoticed. He let out that arrogant chuckle of his as his own eyes wandered to your wanting mouth.

"'Course you don't," he practically growled before he pressed his lips against yours hard as he could.

You barely even noticed your neck aching from the angle, all you could focus on was his tongue gliding over yours and how his teeth pulled at your bottom lip in an almost needy way before he pushed you back against the tree. His hands made quick work of yanking your pants down before he freed himself from his own. He snaked one hand around to your front again while the other aligned himself with your entrance. He wasn't gentle in the slightest as he pushed himself in and used the arm wrapped around you to pull you tighter against him. Once he had bottomed out you felt his head in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck," he breathed against your skin as if he was already in shambles at how tight you were, "if this is what you hating me feels like, keep it up."

A smirk had started to curve on your lips, but he was quick to put a stop to that. He pulled out just about all the way only to thrust back in, making your expression contort into an almost pained one, but you were far from in pain. You lived for the way he filled you up, especially in moments like this. You knew he was determined to remind you that only he could make you feel like this, to remind you that you were his and only his. Not much else compared to the way Bo fucked you after a fight. His passion for you was always at its peak when he was desperate to make you stay.

You felt his hand rest on your shoulder as he began his quick pace while the other resumed drawing those little circles around your clit. They were sloppier than before, far less calculated, but it was just what you needed. One thing you didn't hate was your own ability to make Bo crumble. You got off on it, the way he just lost himself in you. As if your body, your skin and your touch was the only thing in the world that could make him fold. He may have started with control in his grasp, but you could feel the power shift now. You could hear it in the way he panted in your ear, feel it in those circles that grew sloppier and sloppier with each thrust. You knew he was making that face you loved, his brows furrowed, mouth agape, his tongue practically hanging out of it as he watched where your bodies connected in awe. It brought you to the edge just picturing that blissed out expression of his and knowing you were the one that put it there. You tightened around him, hanging off of each circle he drew. That wave was just seconds from crashing over you and he felt it.

"That's it, baby," he panted out as he leaned in closer to your ear, made his thrusts deeper, "show me just how much you hate me."

He added just the slightest extra bit of pressure with his fingers and it had you melting, coating his digits in your juices as you came for him. Your body began to tremble as he continued his pursuit for his own climax, fucking you through yours. Your moans filled his ears and with your body clenched around him, he went over the edge. He let his head fall back as his hands squeezed your hips, there was no doubt bruises would form from how tight his grip was. He let out an almost animalistic growl as he spilled into you, filling you to the brim. His fist slammed into the tree just beside your face and he stilled inside you, breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. You could have stayed like that for hours, bodies intertwined, listening to him struggle to regain his composure and fail to control his shaky breath.

"Shit," he breathed as he slid out of you, proudly admiring the sight of his seed dripping down your legs, "good luck leavin' me now."

You turned your head to see just how smug he looked with that crooked smirk pulling at his lips, "Sure as hell might be trapped," he said with a laugh.

"You're an asshole," you replied, struggling to keep the smile from your face.

He grabbed you by your hand and swiftly spun you round so you were pressed against his chest, "Sure am, but I'm your asshole. Probably for a good long while after that."

"Maybe that's exactly what I wanted," you said slyly as you stood on your toes to meet his lips.

He smiled into your kiss, "You're tellin' me you planned that? The fight, tryin' to leave, all for me to knock you up? And I'm the asshole?" He said against your lips.

"Maybe," you replied, "I'm smarter than you think, Bo."

"Or dumber," he teased.

He pulled back and lifted his hand to brush some of your now messy hair out of your face. His eyes had softened now and he took your chin in his hand.

"You coulda just asked, you know," he said as his thumb brushed your skin gently.

"It's more fun to piss you off," you said with a grin.

He shook his head with a laugh, "No shit."

[f1nalboys]

Bedside Vigil - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

a silly little dark bo fic w sorta same premise as my lester fic. icky yucky evil manipulative bo my beloved!!! also sorta eh on this so lmk if you guys liked this!

WORD COUNT: 1324

WARNINGS: whump, character death, murder, snuff photo mention, full on stockholm syndrome. reader no longer remembers life without bo or ambrose, reader 'loves' bo, throat slitting, brief mentions of being strapped to the chair in the basement in the past, mention of reader and bo having sex but dub-con since the predicament they're in just in case, violence, manipulative and sadistic bo, proofread but probably missed something so sorryyyy <3 enjoy this sick freak

You loved Bo’s bedroom the more time you got to spend in it. It wasn’t comfortable, not like the one you had back home, the one you can’t really remember anymore, but it was worlds away from the suffocating room in the basement of the garage that had been your home for the last month. Maybe it was longer, you still weren’t sure. You had asked Bo once, just once, on how long it had been since you had been in the town with him and he had shaken his head. “Don’t really want to know that, now do you, darlin’?” 

You didn’t.

The town, every structure, every car, every blade of overgrown grass and every overturned pebble, all of it was stuck in the past. It showed signs of life from two decades ago as if the rapture had happened and the entire town had been taken, sent up to heaven with the fanfare cracking the foundation of what was left. Except for Bo. 

Bo was here and now. He was all around you, had been from the second you had stepped foot into the ghost town and maybe even before then, and you couldn’t think of anything you’d want more. You had earned his affection, earned the right to be in his bed the way you had been this last week. You had softened the hand of the beast who had trapped you and now you weren’t trapped anymore and you were in love with the Beast and he was in love with you and you couldn't remember why you had felt trapped in the first place.

“The nails gonna fall out soon.” You say and you hear Bo grunt in acknowledgement from the bathroom across the hall. Glancing away from the candlestick you look over towards the bedroom door which was cracked open. When Bo wasn’t beside you, you felt like you were suffocating. He had saved you in a way. Though in the beginning you had felt trapped, had spit and screamed and cried each time he so much as stepped foot near you, now you understood that he had done what he had to to save you, to mold you into the person you were meant to be. His.

When he brought you into the bedroom last week after feeding you, kissing you, bathing you, he had shown you the candles. “The nails are ta’ keep track of the time,” He had said when he had settled you into the bed with him, the two of you laying on your side, his hips flexing absentmindedly against you as he whispered into your ear. “The last nail falls out and it means you,” He kisses your temple and you sigh, pushing your hips back into his. “Are dead.”

You had laughed, just a little giggle at the thought of a nail falling signifying your end, and the loose grip he had on your hip had gotten tighter and suddenly you feel like you’re strapped to that chair again and you’re feeling scared, so fucking scared, and all you can do is squeak out a weak “I don’t want that.” It worked. His grip loosened once more and he’s kissing your temple and nuzzling into your neck. 

“Course you don’t. Cause you wanna be good for me, right?” You nod and that night you are good for him, an active participant now that you weren’t bound. Bo relished in the attention you gave him from that night on, always on his heel, asking what he needed or wanted from you. If he had told you to take that shotgun off the wall or the knife out of his belt and use it on yourself, you would’ve with a smile on his face and asked if you had done okay.

He walks into the bedroom finally, boxers and a white t-shirt on, and you repeat yourself. “The nails gonna fall out soon.” 

“I know, darlin’. Scared imma let it?” He teases and you shake your head no quickly. You knew he wouldn’t. It felt like you knew Bo better than yourself these days. He had asked you a few days ago what you used to do back then, before Ambrose, and it had taken you a little bit to remember what life was like. As far as you were concerned, there was no point in time before Ambrose. Before Bo.

He crawls into bed on top of you and you grin, sinking down a bit so he was looking down at you with a grin. Neither of you say anything for a moment. You stare into his blue eyes, wondering how they had ever sent anything other than a shiver of love down your spine. Clink. Your head turns and the nail is sideways on the dish below it, flame still going. 

He sighs. “Shit,” He mutters, getting off of you and standing, blowing the candle out. The room is dark and you wait for him to get back into bed with you but he doesn’t. His shadow is darker, a figure against the wall, the kinds you used to see down in the basement with you. A ghost. “Sorry, baby.” He turns the lamp on and you blink, trying to register the scene in front of you. He stood with a knife in his hand, staring down at you like a wounded animal in a trap. Staring down at you with pity.

“Bo?” You ask and your voice doesn’t sound like your own. “What’re you doing?”

“Nail fell out. You know what that means.”

“But you don’t have to.” 

He shakes his head, getting back into bed with you, the air between the two of you thick. You were scared. He can feel you shaking underneath him but you won’t look away, won’t even spare a glance at the knife held in his hand. “Are you scared, sweetheart?” He whispers and you hesitate, choosing to shake your head no despite it being a lie. “No? Not scared I’ll do it?”

“I trust you.”

“That’s stupid.” The knife is pressed against your throat and he’s staring down at you with the same look he had given you in the beginning, one of disgust, and yet you don’t move. When you swallow, the blade digs into your skin just a little. “I could do it right now. Slit your throat, let your blood soak into my mattress, watch the life drain out of your eyes. Might even take a photo of it.”

“You could.”

“Most people would be beggin’ for me not to hurt them, you know that?”

“I trust you.” You reiterate and Bo scoffs, sitting up, still straddling you. The knife is moved away from your throat and you suck in a breath. You did trust him. You loved him and he loved you. He wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that. He could threaten you, he could hit you, he could cut you, but he’d never hurt you, never get rid of you. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, you had crawled your way under his skin and latched onto his very being. You wouldn’t leave, even if he did kill you.

Bo stares down at you with a curious look, lips curving into a sadistic grin. “Too bad. I like the beggin’.” 

And then the knife is sliding across your throat and Bo’s smile is the last thing you see as you gurgle, blood pouring from your neck, soaking into the bedsheets, a visceral splatter across him and the wall. 

He makes sure to take a photo of you like this, blood surrounding you like a broken halo, and he places the photo on his side table, pressed against the still smoldering candle stick. There it would sit until he found someone new and then it would be placed into his drawer alongside the dozens of others. You were right; you wouldn’t leave, even if he killed you.

[vikkirosko]

🧢 Bo Sinclair x Reader Oneshot Tattoo 🧰

Everyone in your city had their own role. Lester lured people to Ambrose, Vincent made wax sculptures, Bo created the appearance of a southern gentleman, giving tourists a sense of security, and you had to attract their attention without letting them notice anything suspicious. You and Bo have always performed your duties together. You didn't even have to pretend to be a couple, because you were really together. Bo pretended to be looking for spare parts that Vincent had damaged in their car during the night while you were rearranging goods on the shelves. You knew they were looking at you, it wasn't the first time people were attracted to your appearance. Even though you wore a T-shirt and shorts to cope with the heat, which was often during the day, it also helped you cope with your role. Bo was annoyed that they were staring at you, but he couldn't afford to voice his indignation. He couldn't afford to arouse their suspicions. However, pretty quickly they began to look away in embarrassment. The reason for this was that you bent down to take one of the boxes and they could see your tattoo on the lower back. You got this tattoo a few months ago, for this you specifically asked Lester to take you to the city. Now "Bo Sinclair" was written in a beautiful handwriting on your skin. You didn't see a problem in getting yourself such a tattoo, and Bo couldn't hold back a satisfied smile every time he saw this tattoo or when someone else saw it. And now he was smiling again. He saw the faces of tourists and understood exactly what they saw. He liked to see those faces. Although he didn't like being stared at, he liked it when they realized that there was no point in them even trying to flirt with you, because the only one you were looking at was him.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Take Care Of You

a/n: so i feel like fucking death right now and i just want bo so here's a little blurb😊 also, going to start working on requests again tomorrow :) (they're coming i swear)

pairing: bo x gn!reader

summary: in which bo takes care of you when you're sick, despite your insistence that you're fine

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed, attempting to stand up. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you. You were fine yesterday.

After a moment, you finally managed to stand up, your head pounding and your legs trembling beneath you. You almost considered calling for Bo, but you were sure this was just a momentary wobble. You'd probably be fine in an hour or two.

"Come on." You whispered to yourself, as though that would somehow make this any better. "You're fine."

When you finally made it out of the bedroom, you found yourself at a disadvantage as you looked down at the staircase. You already felt like you were about to collapse and that was just walking on level flooring. You had no idea how you were going to survive the trip down the stairs.

In the end, you decided it'd be best if you just slid down on your ass. So you carefully lowered yourself to the ground, taking a small breath before pushing yourself forward. God, this was embarrassing.

"What're you doing?" Bo's voice suddenly sounded from the bottom of the stairs.

You'd only made it about halfway down before he'd spotted you.

You sighed. "Nothing."

"Sure looks like nothin'." He said, pausing a moment as he took in the sight of your pale face. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm." You mumbled, holding your head in your hands as you sat there hunched over. God, your head was pounding. "Just...I'll be fine in a minute."

You heard him laugh then, before you heard the sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. "Darlin', we both know that ain't true."

You didn't even fight him as his arm curled under your knees, his hand at your back as he picked you up off the floor.

"I'm fine." You continued to tell him, although the evidence would suggest otherwise.

The walk back to the bedroom wasn't long but each step that Bo took seemed to spark a new pain in your body, making the trip seem too long.

You pressed your face into his shoulder in an attempt to dull the painful throbbing of your head, and you could feel yourself coming close to accepting that you were in fact not fine.

Bo gently set you down on the bed, leaving the room momentarily to get you a glass of water. And when he returned, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, concern evident in his eyes as he watched you.

"You still fine?" He asked jokingly.

You could only offer him a groan as you squeezed your eyes shut, rolling over onto your side.

"You at least gonna let me take care of you?"

"Mhm." You answered, smiling at him as you reached out to stroke your fingers along his leg. "You're a lot nicer when I'm sick."

"Well don't get used to it."

"Okay." You muttered, pressing your face into the pillows as you felt yourself becoming sleepier.

But just as you were about to drift off, you heard him stand up, before feeling the bed dip behind you, the weight of Bo's chest appearing at your back.

You smiled when you felt him sling his arm over your body, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your stomach.

Maybe you should've been sick more often.

[Main Masterlist]

[fandom-imagines]

Bo Sinclair was rude, anybody that knew him was aware of that fact. He was blunt, straightforward, and often times a pure asshole, so as Y/N poured out her feelings to him, Bo didn’t understand why.

Why would she like him? Vincent would be so much better suited for her, or even Lester! She was clearly making the wrong choice, yet he didn’t exactly want her to stop; he cared for her, even if he was yet to admit that to himself.

“You’re making a mistake,” Bo’s rough voice stated as she smiled at his frozen form. “I’m not right for you, you know this.”

The girl in front of him simply shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, Bo, but I can’t find it in me to care. I love you.”

Bo, who stood there in silence, tried his best to form any words, but nothing would come out. Perhaps that was the moment he realised his true feelings for her, or maybe not, he would never know, but as he leaned to connect their lips, he simply knew that it was right. That her heart had made the right choice, even if he doubted it.

[ghostly-clown]

Slashers reaction to you fainting

This happened to me the other day (shout out to my friend thankyou for making sure i was ok) so might aswell write about it. And I am fine now, it wasnt anything serious

.

For this scenario it's just gonna be just 'standing around and suddenly ur just no longer awake'

Includes the usual:

Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt

.

Jason Voorhees

- Jason will catch you as you faint and is put into immediate shock and concern

- he wouldn't know what to do, so he'll slowly lower you to the floor

- and he will not move from that spot until you wake up

- when you do wake up he's making you sit on the floor for a few minutes until your sure you're ok

- after that he's not gonna leave you alone for the rest of the day

.

Brahms Heelshire

- he probably thinks you just suddenly died

- will start cpr, or a weird version of it like wrong number of compressions all done at an irregular pace

- after 10 seconds he would give up

- starts being all dramatic about you being "dead" via crying over your passed out body

- after waking up he would be happy your alive, but mad you would passout on him like that >:(

.

Vincent Sinclair

- as if he didn't have enough anxiety already, you had to go and faint

- he would catch you and absolutely freak out and melt down

- would have an internal war about leaving you to get Bo or Lester and just staying with you

- after a solid minute you would wake up and he's still trying to figure out what to do, he's probably gonna faint from the stress now

- like Jason he would spend the rest of the day around you making sure your ok

.

Micheal Myers

- he is more confused by the situation than worried

- he would try to wake you up via poking and moving your arm

- when that dosnt work he would get a little concerned

- he stops caring the second he finds you still have a pulse and are still alive, but he won't leave you

- after waking up he would continue doing stuff like that never happened, a truly caring soul <3

.

Thomas Hewitt

- like others he would also be concerned but it'll slowly get worse the longer your out

- starts off just confused about what just happened and why

- starts getting concerned after you dont get up

- stress rises from there after you don't wake up even after he starts moving you

- when you do wake up it's immediate relief from him, he will be nervous for the rest of the day tho

.

That was fun :)

[loveandmurders]

Hi!! Love your Sinclair sister content! Could you please write something where Sister! Sinclair is for some reason or other kind of sickly? Maybe She’s had a chronic (non-terminal) illness since childhood, either genetic or as a result from Victor’s shady medical experiments, and even when she’s an adult, she sometimes still has to be on bed rest and/or go through strict medication schedules, with 3 older brothers that take turns keeping watch to make sure she doesn’t overexert herself or take a bad turn. I dunno, Sometimes I think about what if a victim burst into sister sinclair’s bedroom and mistook her for a victim as well? what if a victim thought “oh no a young woman held captive too I must save her!” And tried to force her out of bed and drag her with them during their escape attempt? And how protective her brothers would be, how they’d react if they went to check on her and found her room empty. Especially if those lingering fears of “Oh no what if she dies” from childhood still remained with them. Even if sis’s condition has improved in adulthood and she’s not totally invalid. Love your work!! 🧡

Hello, love. Thank you for your request and kind words!!

I did a little cute one shot based on the details you gave me, hope you'll enjoy it (it might start a bit slowly but then it picks up, I promise) <3 Warnings: chronically ill reader (no disease specified, symptoms of nausea, lack of breath, chest pain), one or two strong word, mentions of murders, mention of abusive family

You really hated those kinds of days when your body decided it was a relapse day. That meant you would need to stay in bed all day and to start a stronger medication than usual so you could feel better in a few days. It sucked so much; you always had so much to do but no, your body would decide otherwise for you and then you would be late for all the chores you needed to do. Since childhood, your body loved to betray you. You would be alright, minding your own business when you wouldn’t suddenly be able to breathe to the point you would be gasping for air and you would feel very weak, nauseous and tired. More than once you almost passed out. Thankfully, your brothers were almost always around and they would catch you before you could hurt yourself. It was as if they possessed some kind of “sibling instinct” telling them when you would need them; more than once they came to check on you just before you fell, even though they had no reason to do it. And they would of course drop whatever they were doing and would tug you to bed and bring you your medication. They would all turn into mother hens, fussing around you and watching over you with great care. 

You truly hated that. You hated to feel like a burden to them and to not be able to help them with the killings then. And the boys found you, more than once, crying in your bed, cursing your body and your condition. It was the moment your brothers were the softest to you, they would try their best to cheer you up. Lester would crack some jokes, Vincent would gently cuddle you and Bo would bring you your favourite food. For once Bo wouldn’t burst in anger, he would only be focused on you. You also knew they were acting so differently when you were sick for two reasons. First, it was because you never allowed them to take care of you that way when you were feeling alright. And your brothers were too protective for your own good. You argued countless times with them, and especially with Bo who was always a little bit controlling. At least, when you were sick, they were authorised to keep an eye on you, to check on you as much as they wanted and to coddle you like a very fragile little thing. It was only because you were too weak to argue. The second reason was because the three of them were really scared your sickness might eventually kill you, even though you were going better than in your childhood. They had no idea what they would do if anything bad happened to you. They needed you more than anything in their lives. They couldn’t even talk about it, but you knew they all very often thought about it, especially when you were in the middle of a crisis.

However, the crises were a lot stronger and more often back then, when you were a kid. It made you lose consciousness quite regularly, especially when the pain in your chest would be just unbearable. You could spend weeks in bed, unable to move or do anything until your father would finally find something that would make you feel better, even if only for a few weeks, or months when you were lucky. The boys would already be very protective of you, and would try their best to help you feel better. It was the only time your parents could enjoy some peace, because your brothers would be too busy taking care of you to scream, argue, and act on their traumas.

One of the worst parts of this was that you had no idea when it started or why, because your mother always said you were a very healthy baby. And she was quite upset about your illness because she already had her hands full with the twins. She didn’t get lucky with her children, she always thought out loud. Victor wouldn’t comment about it, just dealing with the four of you the best he could, in a very cold and “medical” way. Bo always thought your father did something to you though. Lester always replied to Bo that there was no proof of that, because he didn’t want that idea to hurt you. Vincent would rather not talk about it, as if he knew something and preferred to keep it to himself. For your own mental health, you decided to believe it was genetic, maybe from a great grandparent you never met and your parents forgot about, and nothing else. That was why you never asked questions to the doctors you saw later on in your life. Plus, you strongly believed you didn’t need to know why; you just needed a good treatment so you would be able to live as well as possible and you wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Again. Once was more than enough for you… and for your brothers.

When your father was still alive, he had placed you under some medications. It didn’t seem to suit you very well though, especially as you grew up. You would suffer a lot of side effects and you wouldn’t feel so well pretty much all the time. So one day, you just stopped taking what he gave you. For you, at first, it went a lot better, but you quickly felt even sicker than usual and you had a very bad crisis, the worst you ever had. Victor wasn’t impressed at all with you, and he would have let you collapse on his living room floor if your brothers hadn’t reacted. Actually, they panicked, and because Bo was old enough to drive, both him and Lester rushed you to the closest hospital. You were pretty certain you got lucky you didn’t get caught by the police because Bo didn’t respect any speed limitations; he really thought you were going to die. Your two brothers stayed with you all night, very worried for you, and called home to let Vincent know how you were doing. Your mother was already dead and your father was asleep. He never showed up at the hospital even though you stayed there a whole week. You were pretty certain that the lack of interest in you was the last reason why Bo killed your father, but you never talked about it. You were just secretly grateful you could count on your brothers when you truly needed them.

Anyways, today was a day you had to be tugged into bed by Vincent because he saw how weak you were at breakfast. When you got up this morning, you knew it wasn’t going to be a good day but you wanted to pretend that it was going to be okay. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge your body, it would leave you alone, yes? Thankfully Bo hadn’t been around or he would have yelled at you for having gotten up despite the sickness and the lack of breath. Vincent had quickly stood up from his chair when he caught you using the wall to keep you upright. He scooped you up in his arms before you could even protest and he brought you back into your bed. He checked on you, asked you what you needed before getting the meds for you. You pouted and tried to negotiate with him but your brothers would never agree to any kind of deals when it was about your health. They needed you to be alright and even though they loved to take care of you, their hearts were aching at seeing you in any kind of pain. They needed you to be alright, to be your usual sarcastic and independent self again. And the quicker they took care of you, the quicker you were back on your feet. And even though you also knew all this, you couldn’t help but try to pretend you were fine or at least better than you truly were.

You grumbled a soft thank you to Vincent when he gave you your medication with a big glass of water. He waited for you to take it before kissing your forehead and leaving your room. He had instructed you to have some rest but your brain didn’t want to sleep. So you were wide awake, laying in your bed, pouting at yourself. You were bored out of your mind at the moment. It was often like that, once you agreed it was time to stop fighting, you were getting bored, and you needed to think of something to do. You turned your head toward your night table and stared at the pile of books on it, and then at your phone. You didn’t know if you had the strength or enough focus to read, but you didn’t feel like watching videos either. You sighed and tried to find a better position in your bed. You stared at the ceiling then, until you received a message from Lester. You grabbed your phone and opened the message right away.

Vince told me ya ain’t feelin good. Be here this afternoon to take care of ya. Needin anythin at the store?

Of course Vincent had already warned Lester about it, and he probably told it to Bo as well. Gosh, you loved to have your brothers there for you, but they were really too much for your own sanity. You were about to answer to Lester that no, you didn’t need anything, just for your body to be nicer and your brain to shut the fuck up so you could sleep, when your bedroom door opened to reveal Bo. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the man and at his antics. As usual when he was checking on you, he was quickly looking up and down at you as he leaned against the doorframe. You both stayed silent for a little while as you waited for him to stop staring at you like that. You were used to it, and in a little while he would start to question you about how you are feeling. It was always the same thing. There was only your answer that wasn’t always the same and you knew how tense Bo truly was, always scared you would even be too weak to answer.

“How feelin’?” he finally asked with worry in his tone and you rolled your eyes this time. Out of the three, you were pretty sure Bo was the most worried about you. Not that Vincent and Lester cared less about you; Bo was just very bad with his emotions and when you were sick, he was all awkward, without knowing how to truly react. Even after all this time, he didn’t know how to deal with your vulnerability because it was reminding him of his own.

“Ya know, ‘s not because ‘m sick, ya can’t knock at the fuckin’ door” you grumbled because you weren’t in the mood for his bullshit. The man relaxed and even sent you a smirk. It was easier for him when you were mostly your usual self.

“Ah good, not too bad of a crisis if ya can still be snarky” he replied as he came closer to you. In a few steps, he was by your side and sat on the edge of your bed. He ruffled your hair and you huffed and pushed his hand away. “Don’t take the bad habit of talkin’ to me that way though” he warned you and you gave him a very unimpressed look; you really weren’t in the mood to deal with him.

“‘M fine, go back to your cars now” you told and he reluctantly nodded. He had hoped you would have asked him to stay with you. It happened sometimes that you didn’t want to stay alone and then he would fake being annoyed at you while settling in bed with you. Of course, he loved to be allowed to coddle you, no matter how much he hated to have you sick.

“‘Kay, but if ya need anythin’ ya betta call. Vince’ll check on ya later on and ’ll come back to make sure ya take your meds on time” he said and pointed a finger at you. 

“Ain’t a child no more, can take care of myself” you argued back and Bo huffed at you, very not impressed either by your attitude.

“Ya could fall asleep and we all know you need us” he replied. He liked to remind you how much you needed them, as if to convince you you did. But you already did, even though you didn’t want to admit it.

“Can put an alarm on and…” you were starting to argue again but Bo stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“Stop wastin’ your breath, ya know ‘s useless” he sternely replied as he got up from your bed “No need to be difficult, we’re here to take care of ya and there’s nothin’ ya can do ‘bout it” he continued and you sighed. You already knew that as well. Because of your weaker state, you were softer as well. You sat up so you could wrap your arms around him. He calmed down when he understood you wouldn’t fight anymore and he kissed the top of your head. “Much betta” he nodded to himself. You let out a little chuckle before pushing him away.

“Go now” you said.

He gave you one last kiss before leaving your room and softly closing the door behind him.

The rest of the day went by as usual: you eventually fell asleep, so Vincent had to wake you up with gentle touches so you could take your medication on time. You thanked him. Bo brought you food at lunch and chatted with you a little longer until Lester arrived so he could stay around if you needed anything. You slept some more and from time to time you could hear your bedroom door cracked open. One of your brothers would check on you to see if you were resting or if you needed to be taken care of, and sometimes they would wake you up so you could take your meds again. You were already feeling better actually and you truly hoped the crisis would go by pretty soon. Last time you saw Lester, he let you know some tourists had arrived in town but they were a small group and you had nothing to worry about, the twins would really easily end them and you could go back to sleep without even thinking about it. He just wanted to warn you in case you heard gunshots or screams, even if Bo and Vincent were going to try and be quiet for your own sake. You thanked Lester for the information but you didn't think much about it; the tourists never arrived at the house before so you didn’t think anything happening in Ambrose today was of your concern. You could peacefully rest in your safe haven. Plus, with your brothers around, nothing could happen to you.

However, at some point, you vaguely heard in your sleep your door being opened again, but it didn’t seem to be your brothers. You could recognise their footsteps and the way they had to open your door, and it didn’t sound like them at all. You slightly frowned in your unconscious state before being jolted awake by a hand grabbing your arm. You opened your eyes and found a man looking down at you. You didn’t recognize him. You needed some time to understand what was going on: a tourist had arrived into your bedroom! You were silently cursing yourself, and lowkey panicking. At first, you thought the man was going to attack you, despite your vulnerable state, but it was quite the opposite. He tried to get you out of bed to help you!

“I’ve no idea what they did to you, but I’m gonna help. Don’t worry I’m not gonna let you rot in here. Come with me” he told you.

You were speechless. Shit, the man thought you were a victim too! You felt weaker than earlier and you were quite confused. You had a quick glance at the clock and you noticed you missed one of the medication times. Your three brothers must have more issues with the tourists than expected. You tried to talk but you were too tired to be able to. You finally let the man get you out of bed. You sat up and pushed him before shaking your head. You didn’t want him to realise you were a Sinclair but you couldn’t let him take you that easily.

“I promise I’m on your side, I’ll protect you. I’ve already lost all my friends over there, I won’t let another innocent person get tortured and killed today. So come with me. I’ve found some car keys, I’ll be able to drive us out of this hell of town” he explained to you in a rushed whisper. It was even worse than you thought.

“Go… without me” you finally managed to say but the man was stubborn and soon enough you were on your feet. You continued to curse yourself as you couldn’t stop him from taking you downstairs. You more than once fell against him to slow him down, but he didn’t notice it was on purpose and he tried harder for you. You honestly found it quite adorable, but you were also praying for your brothers to quickly come home. At the same time, you realised they would never look over here, because they were too certain that something like that couldn’t happen. And of course it had to be the day you had a crisis!

You were out of the house now; he had found a way out of it from the back door. He had spotted the car he needed and he was slowly getting you there. At least, you knew you could forever tease your brothers with this adventure… if it didn’t badly turn for either of you. You almost reached the car when you heard a gun being loaded behind the two of you. You turned your head around and saw Bo aiming at him. He was pale like you never saw him like that before. You also spotted Vincent lurking in the shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Let her go!” Bo screamed at the man who turned around, paralysed. He was breathing heavily. You weren’t feeling much better as the heat was getting to you. You were about to collapse, you were sure of it, but you really needed to stay awake until this whole mess would be over.

“I won’t let you hurt an innocent woman!” the guy replied and he pushed you behind him to protect you. How ironic that was. You could almost find the situation funny if you weren’t feeling nauseous again. He gave you the keys “Go into the car, I’ll protect you” he told you and you decided to get along with it. At least, if you were out of Bo’s shot, your brother would be able to kill the man. You slowly went into the car and closed the door behind you as you leaned against the seat, waiting for this unwanted untertainment to be over.

Actually, you had fallen unconscious without realising it, because the next time you opened your eyes, you were laying on the couch and your brothers were loudly arguing in the kitchen.

“How did he manage to get into the house hhm?”

“Because ya’re a slow bitch at killing people!”

“How did ya call me little fucker? Ya were supposed to stay here to protect her, but no, ya decided to go have a walk with Jonesy”

“She was scared of the gunshots and no one is supposed to get to the house!”

You were already having a headache. You couldn’t scream, so you grabbed a glass laying on the coffee table and you pushed it on the floor. The sound of breaking glass instantly made them stop arguing. They rushed to you and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at their worried expression all over their faces. “Gosh, is that how ya take care of me now? Ya let people kidnap me?” you teased and laughed even more. Lester smiled as he realised you were feeling alright and even finding the situation quite amusing.

“Stop laughin', Vincent and I almost had a heart attack when we found your empty bed” Bo said, still tense.

“Poor babies” you teased some more and Vincent smiled behind his mask. He brought you your medicine and you took it.

“Won’t happen again” Bo promised and he was deadly serious. You shook your head and smiled

“‘S okay, it was kinda fun”

“‘M gonna pretend ya ain’t knowin’ what ya’re sayin’, love” Bo replied as he checked your temperature by placing a hand on your forehead, hoping you were simply overheating. 

“How ‘bout ya clean up the glass I broke and I won’t tease ya ‘bout that story no more” you offered with a smirk and Lester laughed. Bo huffed but in no time he was complying, even though he wasn’t happy about it. He looked up at you.

“Ya lyin’?” he asked

“Ya’ll die hearin’ that story” you chuckled and Bo groaned even more.

Taglist:

@6-6-6-riddler

[scaredcacticle]

Flowers For Men

Bo Sinclair x F!Reader 🔥

Bo’s date makes an unforgettable first impression

“Dammit, sir can you help me,” you ask the man in the same aisle as you.

“Wh-Oh hey pretty girl what can I go for you,” he replies looking you up and down.

“That’s cute, can you please help me out,” you laugh.

“Hey you don’t even know my name,” he replies, an expectant look on his face.

“Fine what’s your name, mines Y/N,” you giggle.

“Names Bo. Now what is a pretty girl like you doing in a dirty shop like this?” he asks as he walks closer.

“Broken fan belt sadly, anyway you can help?”

“Heh… Yeah I can help you get one but only if I get a date in return”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah really”

With a smile you can’t help but ask him for a pen and paper. He wasn’t bad looking either, quite the opposite actually. Nice chocolate hair, strong arms visible underneath his mechanics suit, and very strong looking hands.

As you walked with him and got your things you couldn’t help but stare at his body. The sweltering heat had his clothes sticking to him showing every muscle in his back.

“Thank you for helping me”

“No problem doll. This a real number ain’t it”

“Of course it is but don’t open it until I leave. No questions just do it”

“Alright”

As you both part ways Bo opens the paper. It’s your number with a time and date at a diner in town. He smiles to himself and heads home, trying to convince himself he won’t be counting down the days until he sees you again.

________

“Hey,” Bo hears from behind him, that all to familiar sweet voice hitting his ears once again. As he turns he has to all but catch his jaw.

He’s a simple man with simple tastes. The simple jean shorts that hug your thighs ever so tightly and your low cut top has his all of his blood going south.

“Hey doll you look real good,” he says , eyes tracing your breasts over and over again.

“Glad you like my top but I also have a gift for you,” you laugh, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind you.

As you set them down Bo stays sitting in silence, mouth open in disbelief.

“Aww cmon now darlin’ men don’t get flowers,” he says covering his face to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey when we talked on the phone you said yourself ‘men never get flowers until they’re dead’ and I plan on giving you a lot more than flowers before you’re dead,” you say leaning over the table between the two of you, making sure your chest is on full display for him.

For the first time in a long time Bo was absolutely stunned. The woman in front of him had him enamored and he needed her. All of her.

As the date continued you and Bo laughed and laughed until the diner closed. Time passing by the both of you in the blink of an eye.

“Can I come back to your place?” You ask as soon as you both leave the diner making Bo stop.

“What?” he laughs ,” I thought I would be the one to ask”

“But you’re not asking fast enough,” all smiles gone from your face, you step up to him. Your face inches from his.

“Y-yeah I mean I was just making sure you wanted to”

“Of course I am”

“Let’s go then”

————

“So where’s your house?” You ask, taking your jacket off.

“Really? That’s all I get after all that teasing at the diner,” Bo laughs , sitting a not so sly hand on your thigh.

“Hey I gotta make sure you’re not a serial killer or something,” you giggle crossing your legs over his hand.

“Well I own my own shop in Ambrose and a wax museum run by my brother and I”

“Nice”

And with that you give him shorter and shorter replies. At some point he’d wondered if you’d fallen asleep, sometimes not answering him at all. Until he pulled up into Ambrose.

“You alrig-“ he starts to ask before your lips are on his and for the first time he has to push a woman off.

“Woah doll that’s what you’ve been planning huh. Let’s go inside”

“Nope. Let’s do it right here in the open who’s gonna see?”

He thinks you’re a woman after his own heart and before he can even think about it he’s on you.

Hands and lips wandering and rubbing all over you. His hands come under your top and in one swift motion he rips it off of you. Breasts now exposed to the cool air of Ambrose.

Like a man starved his mouth is all over your chest. Squeezing and licking your nipples with a hand to your throat. After making quick work of his pants his hands travel to yours and he does the same.

And right before he can do anything you whip around and fall to your knees. It felt like pure ecstasy to Bo, the warm cavern of your mouth feeling like our ecstasy on his member. But Bo isn’t one to lose control so easily, swiftly grabbing your head forcing you down on him over and over again and right before his climax he pulls you off.

Dragging you to the back of his truck he open the bed and throws you over it stuffing himself inside of you. Wasting no time he rams into you hitting every spot you never could.

“That’s right you’re my little slut aren’t you?” He grunts into your ear, hands tightening around your throat.

“Yes, yes I’m your little fucking slut!” You scream, waves and waves of pleasure rushing over you. But Bo keeps going ramming himself into you harder and harder until he unloads inside of you. Using you like his fuckdoll he keeps going until he’s completely empty.

As he pulls always he looks at the beauty of what he’d done. You’re a mess with his cum dripping down your legs and hair a mess.

“You wanna stay the night doll?” He laughs, wiping the remnants of himself off of you.”

And with your nod he picks you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[cherryskyies]

Changes

Bo Sinclair x reader

Word count: 600

This is probably shitty ngl not proofread or nuffin but it’s all i got this writers block is out of control.

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

Your eyes glance over the familiar scenery, nothing has changed on the outside, but you’re sure their wax collection has grown.

The whole drive to Ambrose you were worried they may have left, more specifically he had left, but one look around told you the three of them were still here — the fresh tire tracks leading to Bo’s old truck giving it away.

It’s an odd feeling you notice, standing so uncomfortably in the place you once called home so confidently.

His voice comes out of nowhere, direct and full of shock. “What are you doin’ here?” he asks, standing a foot behind you with a look of desiderium — not that you notice when you turn to face him. “You swore you’d never come back.” he reminds, sounding more stern.

You feel foolish in your response as regret begins to pool in your chest. “Came to see old friends.”

It sounds silly now that you’ve said it out loud and you can’t help but to step back in response to Bo’s rapid strides. “You didn’t bring the police on over with ya? If you did I swear“ he threatens, finger pointed in your face as his eyes bore into your own. “Tell me right now woman!”

You stumble over your words, this isn’t the Bo you know; or should say knew, reminding yourself you don’t know him anymore. “I didn’t — I swear I’d never do something like that.” you respond, hands shaking. But you can see he is still on edge, seemingly no trust in you or your words.

Bo steps back with a grunt, his voice much rougher when he speaks. “Guess time will tell.” but the look of pure hate doesn’t leave his eyes and it makes you uncomfortable; all of this anger was once love and the man standing before you is a stranger you knew so well.

“Would it be better if I left?” you ask, wondering why you showed up at all. “I didn’t think this through.”

He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “You never really do,” he responds, voice calmer as he watches your face heat up. “I’m sure Lester and Vincent would love to see you.” he adds, gesturing to you to follow him towards the house.

The house has remained a picture perfect copy of the last time you saw it which you found cute but unsurprising. None of the boys liked change. “They wouldn’t admit it to me, but I know they’ve missed you.” and in a way it feels as though he is admitting he missed you too and he curses himself for being so open with you. “It’s been quiet.”

You smile, moving from the entry towards the worn couch. “Not much has changed” you note, eyes landing on a polaroid picture sitting on the coffee table. The four of you were standing in it smiling, your arms around Bo’s waist. “I shouldn’t have come” you mutter apologetically, eyes tearing away from the photo and to the man in front of you.

But he’s glad to see you and he knows the others would be as well; he’d never admit that though. “You’re right,” he agrees, words betraying thoughts. “But you can leave tomorrow, you can’t drive in the dark.”

Bo remembers the two times he ever let you drive at night and neither ended well — one truck later he swore to never let you drive in the dark again.

You’re hesitant to accept his offer, nervous for what it would mean. “I’ll be fine, I’ve gotten better y’know.” It’s a lie and he doesn’t need to know that, but somehow he sees right through you and snorts at the slim possibility.

“Like I said,” he begins, eyes locking on to your own, “You can leave tomorrow.” and you nod.

[slasherstories123]

You're "New Beginning" story that you made for me was so beautiful, that I cried. I was hoping maybe when you have the time, you could do a part two? Where the S/O and Vincent date a lot, and that she bought Vincent a new sketchbook and artist pencils.

Bo wanted her back, even though he said it's over, he got bored. Until he caught her actually dating Vincent after he climbed through the window with a small bouquet. The S/O refuses to go back to him of course, she loves Vincent now.

If you don't want to, you can just delete it and ignore it

New begging pt 2

Word count: 1.6k

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @mrs-heelshire @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @beel-mcburger @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @emychan @pink-apollo @misscaller06 @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @charliedawn

Ever since the break up with Bo, it tore you apart, but his twin was there to bring you back up, you didn’t want to be with Vincent just yet, and he respected that. Waiting for whenever you were ready, when you did, he was happy, Ecstatic. Honestly, he treated you better than Bo did, you two always spent time with each other in the basement where he worked, or crafted. Even teaching you a few drawing skills. Mainly, you’d watch him draw or paint, always putting his hair in a braid or ponytail so no art products would get in it. He was grateful for it, grateful to have you for himself. You were happier with Vincent. Compared to Bo, he’s sweet and gentle.

Since Lester came to town, you decided to get groceries and other items from stores, thanking Lester for taking you as you got back home. Waving at the truck pulling off. You put up all the food that belonged in the cabinets and fridge, leaving a certain bag out. Black hair tickled your neck as you put up cans of soup, giggling to yourself, knowing who it was. “Hello to you too Vince.” Turning around, you hugged your boyfriend. His arms wrapped around you, returning the hug, chin resting at the top of your head. “I got you something,” You pulled away to grab the bag, smiling at the small head tilt he gave you, taking it to see what you got. It was a large sketchbook and sketch pencils. You paid attention to his art supplies, seeing that most of his sketchbooks were filled and the pencils were low.

“I thought you could have a bigger sketchbook, plus it was on sale, made me think of you.”

The man smiled under the mask, gently tilting your head upwards so his masked lips could kiss your forehead, his way of saying thank you. You kissed his mask cheek. “You’re welcome, Vinny.” You took a good look at him, his back was still kinda hunched forward, indicating that he’s been sitting in a chair for hours. He looked sluggish. Tired even. “Is this your first time coming out of the basement since I left?” You cupped his masked face ever so gently. He shamefully nodded, hair tickling your nose, you rubbed it so you wouldn’t sneeze. “Vinny you gotta learn when to take breaks, your health matters.” His soft hands grabbed your wrists, thumbs rubbing against your veins. He understood.You hated it when he didn’t take breaks or would spend up to hours working on art or sculpting figures.

His forehead rested against yours, making you laugh. Looks like he really missed you today. Sounds of plastic filled both of your ears. Vincent turned around to see his twin brother at the door with a bouquet of flowers in his right hand, wearing the blue suit he’d always wear at the church. Tilting his head upwards to look at the two of you. He stood there silent. You had a feeling that you knew what he wanted to say. You whispered to Vincent, giving him the bag and telling him to go downstairs, you’ll meet him down there.

He looked at Bo and complied, nodding his head and leaving. Now that you two were alone, you leaned against the counter and crossed your arms. “Bo?” You spoke. The man took a few steps forward, handing the flowers out in your direction. “I…” He paused, you moved your hand in a way telling him to continue. “I want you back darling.” “I’m not your darling. Not anymore, you had your chance and you blew it. Badly.” He was taken back by the response.

“Come on Y/N don’t be like this…”He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Okay?” It was rare for Bo to even apologize at all, so it caught you off guard, only a little. Shaking your head, you pushed the flowers to his chest. “I will accept your apology, but I’m not getting back with you, as you can see, I’m with Vincent, and am much happier with him. Like I said, you had your chance, plus, you were the one that broke up first, remember?”

He didn’t say anything, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t describe. Plus, he never acted like he wanted you back until now. It was like he didn’t care at first, but got bored. You weren’t gonna make that mistake. He might do the same things again, you weren’t going to fall for it.

“So, you can take those flowers, and give it to the next woman that comes to Ambrose, I’m sure she’ll love it like I would’ve done.” You gave him a smile, patting his shoulder, leaving the man alone in the kitchen to pounder in his thoughts. Ever since the breakup things have been weird, especially since you had to stay with Bo in order to play your role in getting the victims to trust you, but after a while everything was fine. You thought he was fine, going back to his old self since he didn’t have to worry about a partner, who knew he'd turn around and try and ask you back despite him breaking up first.

As you left the kitchen, you ran into Vincent, just by his body language, you could tell he was guilty. You sighed. “You heard everything, didn’t you?” He nodded slowly. You hugged him, feeling slight tension be released from your shoulders. “Just know that nothing is going on. I’ll always be with you.” His body slightly tensed up, but hugged you back, Glad that you chose to stay with him. “Now come on, I’d like to see more art you made since I was gone. After that, you’re taking a nap, it looks like you need one.” You could tell he was happy at the sentence, head slowly nodding. Plus, a nap sounds good. Holding your hand to guide you to the basement, where you could praise him for the beautiful art he’s made.

[adalwolfgang]

🖤Hyperfixation Station💛

Helloo I'm Adal! (Any pronouns) Certified Jervis Tetch (Benedict Samuel) enjoyer along side jervis-tetch-my-beloved! I'm here to write, draw, and make friends in whatever fandom I have stumbled into!

🔞nsfw blog so minors be aware🔞 🖤Multi-fandom; Right now I'm hyper focused on anything batman or JimchiASMR related but will still write for other things. Messages and inbox will likely always be open🖤 💛Proship requests are allowed!💛

AO3•TikTok•Insta Discord: adalwolfgang (Feel free to dm about anything if you can't get ahold of me via tumblr!) Sideblogs: Bo Sinclair•JimchiASMR•Batman Imagines

🖤Inbox and Dm's will almost always be open!💛

Inbox 📥 7/♾️

Rules: 🖤I'll delete any request i don’t vibe with without explanation 💛I don't work in order of requests, more to inspiration and depending on how long your ask is. 🖤I need to know character(s) + theme (plot) + reader gender/genitals etc.

What you can request: 💛Character Interaction (ex. asking Jervis Tetch a question and getting a in character response) 🖤Any kind of fanfiction since I can’t list them all. 💛Headcanons (character limit is 9) 🖤Imagines 💛Reactions 🖤I ship you with...(describe yourself) 💛Letter from a character

(Dividers used on my page and posts are normally by: @cafekitsune)

Short list of fandoms I'm familiar with (The gradient colored fandoms are the ones I'm currently hyperfixated on) : 🖤Batman Rogues Gallery (Mainly Gotham TV series) 💛Horror (Slashers) 🖤Gravity Falls 💛Supernatural 🖤JimchiASMR universe 💛RPF (Actors and Celebrities) 🖤Dead Boy Detectives 💛The Sandman

(Again this is just examples of the fandoms I'm currently in though I will take requests on other things, it might just take longer for me to research them.)

[zaddymyboi]

Make a request?

Master list

Who I write for

-Bob Velseb

-V (from V for Vendetta)

-Asa Emory (The Collector)

-Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

-Michael Myers (Rob Zombie)

-Stu Macher

-Thomas Hewitt

-Bubba Sawyer

-Jason Voorhees

-Brahms Heelshire

-Bo Sinclair

-Vincent Sinclair

-Lester Sinclair

-Billy Lenz

-Yautja (Predator)

-Pyramidhead

-Gabriel Reyes (Blackwatch/Overwatch)

-William Afton

-Timothy Wright/Masky (Marble Hornets)

-Brian Thomas/Hoodie (Marble Hornets)

-Tobias “Toby” Erin Rogers (Creepypasta)

-Recom!Miles Quaritch (Avatar)

-Recom!Lyle Wainfleet (Avatar)

-Recom!Mansk (Avatar)

-Vlad Dracula Tepes (Castlevania)

-Konig

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-Johnny “Soap” McTavish

-Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos (TOH)

(Please pick category of fandom, a select few of characters, or say all)

What I write

-nsfw

-fluff

-headcannons

-oneshots/shorts

What I won’t write

-incest

-r/pe

-cnc

-pro shipping

-underage reader

-p3dophilia