blushing-ghost-stories - Tumblr blog

[blushing-ghost-stories]

NSFW ALPHABET: Bo Sinclair

[ NSFW + No Gendered Terms]

Word Count: 1.4K+ Words

NSFW Warnings: Explicit NSFW, Pure Smut Headcanons, Rough and Aggresive Sex, Teasing/Cocky!Bo Sinclair, Mention of Different Kinks

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

Bo takes a bit of time to recover from sex because he’s aggressive in it. He’s panting and sweating. Once he comes down, he wipes himself down then his SO down. He’ll them simply toss it aside and flop back on top of his SO, needing to feel their body again. He just wants to hold them, murmuring about how good it was.

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

Bo’s favorite body part on himself is his cock. I don’t think I have to explain but he has an ego for a reason and his cock is that. His favorite part of his SO's body are their lips. I mean, he cannot pull his eyes away from them in conversation when they’re talking.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Bo likes when his cum is pretty much anywhere on his SO. Their back, stomach, face, in your mouth or inside of them. He just needs it on or in them to feel truly satisfied. I will say his favorite though is in their mouth. Seeing it on their tongue is enough for him to want another round already.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You might not want to pick up the porn mags or Playboy mags in his room. He has more than a couple in there tucked into his drawers. Let’s just say some pages are stuck together.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bo has had a good amount of experience. He’s a charmer, it’s not difficult to find people to fuck. In more recent years, it’s gotten rarer simply because he immediately thinks of people as targets rather than a sexual interest.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Bo enjoys cowgirl as it gives him easy access to everything while being able to degrade his SO to their face. He grips their thighs tight while slamming them down onto himself along with his degrading words.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bo is a tease so he’s often laughing at his teasing/degradation targeted at his SO. He keeps his aggressive nature along with his focus on getting to finish but he’s laughing at them the whole time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Happy trail that goes down to a bit of dark hair that he keeps trimmed. It’s not too much or too long but he considers it a hassle to remove all of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Bo can be slower and gentle if sex is following a romantic event or day but ultimately, he will lose himself and get rough and run on pure lust until he gets off.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Bo is in a house, shared by his two brothers that he cares for along with taking charge of leading victims and running his shop. He gets pretty heated and stressed so when he gets to jack off, it’s such a relief. He’s unapologetically loud in his grunting and growling.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Just a list of some: Slight Daddy Kink, Degradation/Praise, Exhibitionism, Dumbification, Begging, Light Choking, Dacryphilia, Spanking, Breath Play, Edging, Overstimulation

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bo likes to have it be convenient so it’s where he’s at most: In the shop’s garage especially since no one is really there besides him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Bo is practically clawing at his pants at any moment because he has a high sex drive. But anything related to his SO has him ready to tear their clothing off with one word. Specific things include: Tight Clothing, Tears/Runny Makeup, Lingerie, Getting/Receiving Hickeys

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bo would not be a fan of bondage on himself in any way and he'd be hesitant to do tight bondage on his SO. He would constantly check in to make sure that it's on right but not too tight. But on himself, it would bring back too many harsh memories and would immediately refuse.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Bo prefers to receive since his SO looks all too pretty on their knees for him. He gets all excited and will end up thrusting into their mouth while holding their head just to hear them gag. He will give as well and is such a tease with it. His eyes stay on them to watch their reactions and once it seems like they're about to finish, he pulls away and has a smug grin.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and hard for his own satisfaction. It's only slow and romantic for special occasions or in the early mornings.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bo is an absolute slut for quickies. The thought of having to rush to not get caught or just the simple pent-up aggression he's been holding onto all day poured out into one moment gets him off easily. This can be several times a week(3-4 days of the week) and sometimes 1-2x a day if he's got the energy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It's all about risk for Bo. He's an exhibitionist and loves to fuck by a window or something when victims come through Ambrose. It's a claiming thing as well as just a general brag.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Bo is kinda selfish so he doesn't really care to get his SO any more than one or two times. He gets them off first teasing slow then goes rough as fuck until he cums. He's impatient so it's not like he's going at a slow rate for very long. Lasts around 15 minutes of pure pounding into you until you’re sore.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bo isn't a fan of toys and doesn't use them. He's considered getting a pocket pussy before but changed his mind about it. He thinks his hand does the job well enough. Unless his SO already comes out with toys or buys them themselves, he isn't one to keep 'em around.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I've mentioned it a few times already but he doesn't have that shit-eating grin for no reason. He's a tease. And he loves it. Seeing his SO beg and plead just to be fucked already is like music to his ears. His eyes watch their body jolt and grind against his hand or tongue just to be met with Bo backing away. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Dirty slut. But it ain't yer time yet, honey. Don't worry... You'll get fucked right soon."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and growls unapologetically loud but not loud enough to be heard over his SO's sounds. After all, those sounds are prettiest to him. His goal is for his SO to be heard through the entirety of Ambrose.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Bo is the type to love jealous/hate sex. If someone coming through Ambrose decides to flirt with his SO or looks at them a certain way, Bo likes to lead them into a trapped area where the victim could see and/or hear them getting fucked just to show off.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bo is just under 8 inches (not by a lot; around 7.8in) with an average thickness to it. Slightly curved to the left. Definitely a shower and it's obvious.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Bo gets off every day if he can. It feels too fucking good not to. But sex is constantly on the mind for Bo whether he even has cum left in his balls or not.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bo is the type to just instantly knock out. It's KO for him the moment him and his SO are cleaned up. The same minute his head is on the pillow is the same minute there's loud snoring.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[blushing-ghost-stories]

The Sinclair Twins With Baby Fever

This contains smut so minors do not engage thank you. Contains graphic depictions of sex/ sexual acts.

(Also i havent written smut in a while so im sorry if its bad lmao)

Bo Sinclair

Bo never thought he'd want kids.

He thought they were sort of like inconveniences from how his parents acted when they were kids.

But that idea slowly began to change after meeting you

For one, it takes two people to make one, and in a ghost town, there isn't an abundance of living women.

And Bo didn't really believe he would be a good parent.

However, it all flipped rather suddenly for Bo.

You had been showing him photos from an old vacation you went on with family and he stumbled across one of you and your niece.

A tiny one-year-old, in cute pink dungarees, all swaddled up in your arms with big blue eyes and one of her chunky hands in her mouth on an exploration.

Bo admitted that it was rather cute and you started to ramble about the times you've looked after family and children.

And it occurs to Bo that while he may not be wonderful with children, you certainly were.

The thought comes along all too suddenly for his liking and before he knows what he's doing, he's imagining you with your baby- his baby.

It makes his chest flutter, the image of your swollen belly and milk-filled chest burning into his eyes.

He tries to give it some serious thought, weighing up the pros and cons of such an important choice.

Bo of course brought it up to you. He wasn't going to just grin and bear the need he was now experiencing.

~~~~~

"Oh my god," you grin up at him. He scowls and huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? I don't see what the big deal is." he's still pouting and you have to admit he looks pretty cute like that, with blushy cheeks.

"Bo, you've got baby fever!" you giggle and him as he huffs again. 

Bo throws his arms up in the air and sighs. He knows he isn't going to win that battle. "Look did you want to have a baby or not, sugar?"

You give him a long drawn-out silence, leaving him in anticipation for what he deems to be far too long, however, he doesn't want to push his luck on the situation.

You finally give him a smile and a wink, "Of course I do, Bo." he fights back a smile and slinks closer to you to give you a peck on the cheek but lets out a chuckle when you pull him back again for a proper kiss.

He smirks and practically throws you into the bedroom, not wasting a moment to take off his shirt and throw it to the side. He tugs down his jeans and you both begin to shed clothing as fast as possible. You can hear the clink of your husband's belt hitting the floor over the sound of your loud heartbeat. He finally moves to slot himself between your thighs, grinding against your clothed heat.

Bo hasn't felt this nervous in a long time. Normally, sex is rough and teasing with Bo, but every little touch against him feels like fire and it has him moaning into your chest like a virgin. The image of your swollen belly ingrains itself into his mind again, and he feels himself becoming too needy to pace himself. Before he can fully grasp what he's doing, he's already rutting into you with quick deep thrusts. He doesn't bother pulling out and wasting time on long thrusts, choosing to just chase the pleasure you both want so badly.

Bo loves the way you look under him like this, eyes nearly closed and rolling back with your mouth agape from the breathless moans you're making after every rub of his cock against your g-spot. He can feel you tightening around him, and he honestly can't recall a better feeling than this. He can tell you're going to cum soon with how loud you are and how your hips try to chase his.

Bo slips a hand between you both and plants it on your folds. He'll be damned if he was going to cum this soon without you. You let out a moan that sounds like it was straight out of a porno, and Bo feels it travel like electricity down to his groin. You can feel him twitch deep inside you, kissing against your internal ridges. You're so tight that Bo can barely move without moaning like a bitch.  

He comes close to your face, watching your fucked out expression closely. His fingers speed up, deftly finding your clit and circling it like he's begging for you to cum around him. "'Gonna cum, sugar?" his southern drawl drags you out of your fever dream state and you nod up at him, failing to find words anymore. You grip his shoulders and you wrap your thighs around his waist. He laughs at the idea that you're stopping him from pulling out. You cum and he can feel you completely spasm around his cock. Bo knows he can't take another second of that intense pleasure before he's cumming so hard he's seeing coloured patches in his vision, moaning as he stills inside of you. Hot ropes of his cum spurt out into you, making you gasp from the new feeling.

Bo nearly collapses on top of you after, head laying on your comfortable chest while your fingers rake through his wet hair. He can't bring himself to pull out of you just yet, and he's still breathless from finishing inside you for the first time. He can feel your thighs rocking still with the aftershocks of the experience. He kisses your chest lightly and looks up at you.

"I love you, Sugar," he murmurs softly against your skin, "I love you so much."

You don't miss how one of his hands rubs gentle circles into your tummy.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent's biggest problem is his lack of communication. He can't simply speak about how he's feeling most of the time.

If he could, you may have found out about this sooner.

Vincent has always been more tolerant of children than Bo was so he experienced this quite early on but didn't know how to approach you about it.

He was worried that you would think he was weird or that you wouldn't want kids and then leave him.

So for months, he suffered in silence, fighting the urge to paint your insides with himself, and fantasising about what life would be like if you had a baby.

He's touched himself to the thought of you swollen and glowing, and imagining it's you he's coming in before the reality sets in again and he feels disgusted with himself once more.

You've started to notice his hesitance in intimate moments and you finally confront him, asking if he doesn't think you're attractive anymore.

He moves his hand to different parts of the basement, all filled with paintings and sculptures of you. It was a stupid thing to ask, of course, he thought you were gorgeous.

~~~~~

So you finally ask him what the problem was, and why he was suddenly not willing to touch you.

Vincent is of course quiet. He, in all honesty, was trying to hold off sex because he didn't feel he could trust himself to pull out anymore. He was worried that the temptation would be too great and he wouldn't be able to help himself. He's not really sure how he can say that and not come off as a huge pervert.

So he just comes close to you and embraces you momentarily, before placing a hand on your abdomen. It's just barely present but you can feel the touch. Then he takes his hands and makes a cradling motion.

For a moment you're confused. What does he mean by 'baby'? until it clicks in your mind. Did Vincent think you were pregnant? Was that why he was being so careful?

"Vinny, sweetheart, I'm not pregnant you dont need to worry about hurting me or anything-" Before you can finish, Vincent shakes his head and begins to sign.

'I know he looks at you to make sure you're following him, 'I think that's the problem'

Some sort of realisation becomes apparent to you and you ask the question he's been wanting to ask for months.

"Do you... Want a baby?"

He waits a moment and then nods before looking down. He begins signing again but doesn't look up, he doesn't want to see your grossed-out face.

'I was scared to force something on you but I wasn't sure how to say it. I didn't think I could trust my body during sex anymore.'

Your heart swells a little bit at the confession. Had Vincent been beating himself up for wanting to get you pregnant?

"I think I want a baby too, Vince" you giggle when his head shoots up from looking down at the floor. He signs too quickly for you to follow but you can just about catch the words 'Angel' and 'love'.

He stops signing and abruptly picks you up, spinning you before holding you bridal style in his arms. He hasn't said but you have an idea of where he's taking you. Vincent kicks the door to your shared bedroom open and gently places you on the covers. He removes his own clothing- save for his mask- and then patiently removes your own, kissing the skin that is revealed. 

Usually, Vincent gets quite needy during these moments, and his touch is feverish. He's painfully hard at this point, but he wants to savour you. He doesn't want to lose himself just yet. 

You're the one who removes his mask, taking in his flushed face and pulling him closer for a kiss. He can't begin to describe how much he loves you at this moment. He puts little weight on you as he traps you on the bed between his arms. 

You make a noise of surprise when he pulls back from you to lean on his feet. You're about to ask what he's doing but he's already sliding down your body to slot his head between your thighs. He gives the left of a small nip before kissing it again. Your core floods with anticipation when he gazes up at you like that. He waits for you to push his face closer to your folds to make sure you're okay. As soon as you do, he pushes his whole face against you, breathing you in and flattening his large tongue against your pussy. He lets out a raspy moan before he truly begins to lick. You know what's coming and the anticipation makes your thighs shudder around his head. 

He looks up through his hair to see you throw your head back in pleasure. He's always loved how you look like this, with his head between your thighs and your hands in his hair. The sight is so hot that he knows he could probably finish from it alone. 

Your breath hitches when you feel his hand travel from your hip to your folds. He uses his hand to part them before he gives a few kitten licks to your clit. His own eyes roll back as you spasm, and he continues that motion, fingers sliding into your wet core. He moves his two fingers slow and deep inside you, crooking them upwards halfway through each languid thrust. And just like that he can feel you tightening on his fingers with each lick and movement. Your moans get louder but he continues, spurred on by the look of pleasure you give him.

Your hips rut against his face and he moans against your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking it. Just like that his fingers bring you over the edge, moaning and shaking as you wrap your legs around his face. Vincent removes his fingers and pushes his face into you again, licking up your juice before rising once more to be above you. You still look fucked out and he takes pride it in. You pull him in and kiss him deeply.

Vincent's hands travel down your thighs and stop at your knees. You briefly wonder what he's doing before he pushes them up and pins your legs against your chest. He's never tried this angle before.

But he likes it. A lot. 

You can see from his expression that he's enjoying the view and briefly his eyes flicker between you and a sketchbook. You grab his face gently and make him look at you.

"You can draw later. Right now I want you to fuck me, Vincent" 

His one good eye widens as if to say 'Yes ma'am' and before you know it, he's slotting himself into you, using his body weight to keep your legs pinned against your chest. Already he's so deep inside you that he's pushing against your sweet spot without trying. Vincent takes a moment to gather himself- he doesn't think he's ever been this deep inside you and suddenly he loves this position even more. He begins to roll his hips against you slowly, teasingly. He knows you want more so he begins to move, throwing a fair amount of his body weight into each deep thrust. Vincent can hear your breathless moan with each slap of his hips against your backside. He leans down on his strong left arm and uses his right to fondle your bouncing chest, making eye contact with you. It's your half-lidded hazy expression that makes his heart hammer in his chest. Vincent mouths the words 'I love you' and 'so pretty' over and over like a chant.

He's sure you can feel every little twitch and pulse of his cock with how tight you are around him. Fuck, he thinks, you feel so good. He's missed your pretty cunt so much and he's certain you've realised by how desperate his movement is becoming- degrading from measured, long, strong thrusts to irregular, quick jabs accompanied by crackly whimpers of pleasure. He's worried that he'll cum first now so he pulls his hand from your chest and pushes it between your folds to play with your clit.

A low, fractured murmur of "G-Gon' cu-um" falls from his open mouth and you're shocked for a moment.

Vincent stills against you and you feel your insides flood with warmth. The feeling along with his fingers still rubbing you tenderly, makes your own orgasm wash over you and he moans again as your pussy sucks him in further. He waits until you both finish before slowly pulling out of you, globs of excess cum seeping out of you. He uses his fingers to scoop the leaking cum up and fingers it back inside of you, humming when he sees that it isn't leaking anymore.

"I love you, Vinny," he looks at you and smiles, placing a pillow under your hips. He comes back to you with a flannel and washes the sweat from you and places a kiss on your forehead. Vincent lays beside you on the bed, placing his head against your chest and running his palm over the soft part of your tummy. 

[blushing-ghost-stories]

thomas hewitt x gn!reader

uncle monty finds a record player for you and tommy. mini blurb that continues from stand by your man, will not he cross posted onto ao3. if reading as stand alone, reader can be considered gn.

you wave at uncle monty as he pulls onto the property, a white ford getting towed behind his truck. you jogged from the shade of the porch to meet him at his usual drop off spot. you smile at him and put your hands on his door, hanging on.

“hi uncle monty,” you say nicely.

“tommy working?” he asks with his own smile, killing the engine. you nod, squinting towards the bright sun to keep yourself from reacting to the reminder. “well, i took a look in the trunk, plenty of stuff to pick through. how’d you like first dibs?”

you and monty had come to an understanding during your stay at the ranch. he was sympathetic towards you, although he wouldn’t dare act on that near anyone else. it wasn’t much but he showed you kindness, which you tried to reciprocate by being friendly with the old man.

you patted the door excitedly, biting your lip before hurrying to the car on the other end of the tow line. monty followed after you at his own pace, fingering through his ring of keys for the new addition.

“nice car,” you say, inspecting the clean white finish. you can’t find a single ding in the paint, much unlike monty’s rusty truck.

“if you think that’s nice, just you wait,” he says, smiling as he sticks the key into the trunk, popping it open. inside is a flat plastic case, a little smaller than your torso, and what looks like a one foot by one foot skinny square trunk beside it. your eyes widen as you see the brand name stamped on the plastic.

“is that really…?” you trail off in wonder. monty smirks like he bought the thing himself.

“a portable philips record player,” monty finishes for you, dusting off the top of the clean case. “check the trunk next to it.”

you glance at him with a growing grin before clicking open the case. you laugh excitedly when you see the stack of records sandwiched together.

“what a find!” you giggle.

“why don’t you hold onto it,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “me and luda mae ain’t too interested in music, and hoyt’s either gonna break it or try to pawn it off.”

“you sure?” you ask, but you’re already picking up the record player with both arms. monty laughs at you.

“i’m sure. you enjoy those things for all of us, alright?”

you nod happily, taking off for the house with the record player firmly in both hands.

“i’ll be right back!” you say over your shoulder, eager to set it up in yours and thomas’s bedroom.

by the time thomas is re-emerging from his basement, you’re laying back on the bed with the needle dropped on a tammy wynette album. you sit up on your elbows when thomas comes in, dirty and sweaty from working. you try to smile at him, and you’re mostly successful as long as you don’t think about where the stains and the music came from.

“hi,” you say, watching how he stands in the doorway to the bedroom.

he makes sure he has your attention before looking to the record player. your smile turns a little more real as you sit up completely.

“uncle monty found it in their car. ain’t it great? i think it’s brand new,” you say.

thomas walks into the room, getting closer to the spinning track to investigate it. you watch him as he cocks his head.

“i didn’t know they made tiny ones until uncle monty showed me this one. it’s portable. my nana used to have a gramophone and she would listen to the most boring music you could imagine. this is tammy wynette, ain’t she good?”

thomas turns away from the record player and walks to their chest of drawers, untying his apron as he goes. your smile fades a little as your eyes follow him.

since you started living with the hewitt’s thomas’s demeanor has changed a lot. he was less affectionate with you, like he wouldn’t dare touch you even if his life depended on it. he didn’t hold you in bed, like you used to fantasize about when you were rolling around in the hay together. he could barely even look you in the eye.

thomas leaves his apron on the dresser and looks down at himself, touching one of the dark stains on his shirt. you watch him try to brush it off, lightly at first and then harder, like he was trying to scratch it away. he gives up with a silent sigh, one you see more than you hear.

the song crackles to an end, and then the next one starts.

you’ve never heard this song before, but it’s slow and it makes you sway on your feet. thomas doesn’t look at you as you near him, and he stiffens when you put your arms around his torso.

“can we dance?” you ask quietly. thomas shakes his head on reflex. “how about we just dance like this? it’s just us, tommy.”

you start to sway on your feet, and thomas moves with you after a few moments of standing perfectly still. you smile and rub along chest, ignoring the texture of the dried stains.

“i miss you, tommy,” you admit, cheek pressed to his back. “please don’t shut me out.”

despite whatever was going on in the hewitt home, this was what you couldn’t stand the most. the thought of loosing thomas after loosing everything else made your eyes water.

thomas doesn’t respond, because he never does. instead, he turns around in your arms and holds you against himself, and you feel the stain on your cheek now. you shut your eyes and will away the stomach turning facts that you’ve been avoiding this whole time.

“can we dance, tommy? please? i love this song,” you whisper, hands going to his sides to hug him back. you move your cheek against him to a cleaner spot of fabric and nestle in there. if thomas doesn’t know how to dance, he doesn’t tell you. you start to sway with him, back and forth in your dusty shared bedroom, watching the record spin in circles.

“i love you,” you say, pressing your cheek against him as far as it’ll go. “we’re gonna be okay.”

his hand cups the back of your head, gentle and tender. you imagine his hands on the kind of person that would drive a white ford filled with brand new records.

you close your eyes and decide to just feel his warmth instead.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

[blushing-ghost-stories]

stand by your man

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

tags: first meetings, cannibalism, thomas hewitt wears a face in this one guys, canon-typical violence, misogyny, slut shaming, fluff and angst, ambiguous/open ending, i mean to me its happy but yk, bad guys win sort of ending notes: second person pov – cis fem reader with some defined traits (tall, midsized, long hair). everything else is up to interpretation. i'm sorry if this fic seems really cruel towards thomas :( i love him i promise

read on ao3

Humid felt like an understatement on a day like today. Walking inside your little wooden shack felt like swimming in pond water, thick and stagnant. The morning wasn’t so bad but, before lunchtime, you had thrown open every window on the chance that a breeze would sweep through, even if it was only for a moment.

But there’s no wind today, which leads you and your old orange cat sitting like panting dogs out on the front porch. Your stomach growls, but you can’t imagine getting up and cooking for yourself like this. You want some soda fountain ice cream, but downtown is a long walk and the drugstore has been closed down for a few months anyhow.

Groaning, you roll onto your side and daydream about frothy root beer floats. You’re so deep in your fantasy that you hardly notice when your cat scrambles onto her feet, faster than summer lightning, and books it out the dusty yard on the heels of a field mouse.

“Goddamn it, Peanut,” you say to nobody, watching her go with a disappointed sigh. She must’ve been starving to run like that in this heat. You watch her go and go until she runs into the grass. Then you don’t see her at all.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

“Peanut?” you call out, sitting up. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the shady live oak a stone’s throw from the house. You stand up and walk out towards the grass, feet burning on the sun-exposed dust.

“Here, kitty kitty!” you call out, looking for movement in the fields. There is none, so you cup your mouth and try again, louder. “Here, kitty kitty! C’mere, Peanut!”

Nothing but the buzzing bugs.

Your little housecat wasn’t made for the Texan wilderness. She was getting old and preferred to spend her days napping in whatever spot was the coolest.

Wading into the tall grass, you almost want to forget about ever having a cat, but you know you could never. You love Peanut, even if she gets on your nerves.

The fields are droning with critters that you can’t even see. It’s like they’re all complaining about the heat, and you find yourself agreeing with them. You wish you had grabbed some shoes before heading out, but you’re already this far – besides, if you return home now, you’re sure you won’t want to keep looking.

You don’t know how long you walk, but the sun is high over your head when you find an old wooden fence. Trees line the property on the other side, and it sure is tempting to hide under those pretty green leaves for a while, but you’re getting more worried the longer you look for your cat. Maybe a dog or a snake got to her first.

You hop up onto the fence and swing a leg over, then the other. Standing on the bottom rung, you hold onto the post for balance. Cupping your mouth with your free hand, you shout out into the field, “Peanut!”

Thomas was bored.

They had guests two days ago, but Thomas was already finished separating meat from bone and cartilage. Before that, it had been almost two weeks since their last visitors, and he thinks he got a little too excited at the prospect of getting to butcher something.

They weren’t even handsome enough to keep. The whole thing felt like a waste.

It’s a hot day, but Thomas doesn’t mind it. It not much, but walking in the shade at least gets the sun off of him. The oaks circle their home, and he can walk in on one end and come out on the other, pretty much in the same place. He’s curious today, though.

No meat at home. He might as well walk as far as his legs will take him.

The leaves sway and rustle together quietly when the wind comes by, but even then the air feels thick. Thomas trudges along, looking for something he doesn’t know about yet. There’s movement in the brush, but he can see it’s just a fat orange cat. It bolts when Thomas stomps past it, running into a clearing of tall grass. Thomas keeps on going, searching.

Hearing a shout, he knows he’s found it.

The noise was far, but not too far to walk towards. The sound keeps repeating, and it’s a female sounding voice; today’s his lucky day since he didn’t bring anything with him. She might go kicking and screaming, but it shouldn’t be too hard to throw an unsuspecting woman over his shoulder and carry her to the basement.

Reaching the tree line, the brush and the tree limbs part to reveal you.

Tall and full bodied, he sees your legs first. They’re pressed together as you stand on his fence, and your dress rides up as you bend forward at the waist.

“Peanut!” you yell, and he realizes it’s what you’ve been yelling the whole time. You curse under your breath and wipe at your forehead. Your hair is long and it’s loose, falling down your back past your shoulders. You’re sweaty and you don’t wear any shoes. Thomas watches your curiously.

You must have given up on whatever you were doing, because you step down from the fence and lean on it, putting your forehead on your folded arms. Thomas stares. You don’t look like the usual kind of guest.

Guests were usually tourists, and although Thomas couldn’t place you, he could tell that you were local. You wore a house dress like Momma, and you didn’t wear shoes outside. You were a Texas girl, Thomas realized.

He’s not sure the last time he met a real Texas girl. Probably not since he stopped going to the doctor in town, and that was when he was still a little kid.

Thomas was torn. He’s never killed townsfolk before. Meat is meat, the annoying little Charlie in his head hollered at him, but his Momma was in there too, telling him that there wasn’t anything left of their town. Shouldn’t he try to keep their town alive? Wouldn’t that make Momma happy?

He’s still debating with himself when you turn around and startle. He’s expecting you to scream and run away from him, but you don’t. You close your eyes, cover your chest, and sigh heavily.

“I am so sorry, mister. I thought it was just me and the June bugs out here today,” you say, opening your eyes again.

You smile at him, and Thomas feels like someone’s nailed his feet to the dirt. You watch Thomas as he watches you. Your smile falls a little bit, and Thomas knows why. He was expecting it, anyways.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing, mister, really. It’s just that I live out that way and my cat ran away this morning. I’ve been looking everywhere for her, I thought I could get a better look of the field from up on the fence,” you explain, gesturing behind yourself as you talk. Thomas likes the way your hair moves when you turn, and even though it’s wet with sweat, Thomas's fingers itch to stroke it out of your face.

He's no genius, but he can tell you’re worried. You’re making the same worried face Uncle Monty makes when Uncle Charlie was yelling at him. He was gonna walk anyways, he tells himself, as he gestures for you to follow him.

You look surprised, but you hurry to his side as Thomas starts striding through the trees. You sigh once you’re in the shade.

“Hell of a day, today. Even the shade is hot enough to fry an egg,” you say, walking behind him. You were taller than the other girls that came around here, but still only came up to his chin. He wasn’t gonna bother waiting for you to catch up, one way or another, and strode forward.

Your daddy always used to say that you could talk a gate off its hinges, but walking with this enormous stranger, you found yourself all out of words.

He cut a massive and daunting figure, especially with that dark mask covering his nose and mouth. His clothes were dirty, with brownish reddish stains covering him and his butcher’s apron. His dark curls were unruly and stuck together from sweat underneath the straps and buckles of his muzzle.

There was no better word for what he looked like than mean, but that never scared you off before. Your grandpa was a mean-looking man too, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever known. You just wished the guy would talk to you too, that’s all. Maybe that would make the twisty nerves in your stomach go away.

Just as your mind starts getting creative about where the stranger could be taking you, he continues past the tree shade to an open field. The grass is still tall here, but it makes rolling waves on top of mounds of dirt.

“Guess here’s a good place to look,” you say, and you trudge forward in the tall grass. The dirt is cool between your toes, and you make little clinking noises with your tongue, interrupted by the occasional, “here, kitty.”

Thomas leaves your side to look on his own. The grass here is thick, and the holes make for some nice shade. Probably pretty nice for a little critter looking to get out of the heat.

You’re bent over, inspecting one of the holes, when you hear a familiar grumpy meow. You shoot back up, glancing down in the tall grass before your eyes land on the masked giant. In his arms is your fat orange cat, looking very displeased about being out in the sunshine.

“Peanut! You found Peanut!” you cry, jumping for joy before running to his side. The man stands there, frozen in place, while you take the cat from his arms and kiss her little forehead.

“Naughty girl, running away from home like that,” you scold, patting the spot above her tail like a faux spank. It barely even lands on her, but she still meows in annoyance. You laugh a little bit and look up at the man who’s already looking at you. Your smile softens as relief makes way for gratitude.

���Thank you, mister. You’ve got no idea how much this little guy means to me. How can I repay you?” you ask, holding on tighter to your cat so she can’t jump from your arms.

He doesn’t answer. You bite your lip.

“You free tomorrow?” you change your question. The man pauses before nodding. “Meet me by the fence again, okay? Same time as today.” The man watches you blankly, but the fact that he’s helped you already puts you more at ease. You smile at him and nod with a sense of finality.

“Thanks again. I’m gonna get out of your hair now.” He stands in the sun, and as you retreat back to the shade for your journey home, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re hidden by the trees.

“He seems nice,” you say to Peanut, who cries out pitifully at being carried. It’s gonna be a long walk home, you realize, as she squirms in your arms to break free again.

Thomas isn’t stupid, no matter what people like to say about him. All things considered, though, he feels pretty stupid standing behind the oak tree nearest to your meeting spot by the fence.

He knew you were coming this time. He could have brought his chainsaw, and if that was too heavy, he could have easily grabbed a hammer or his hook. He could’ve even kept them in his pocket, if he wanted to keep his hands free for the hour long journey.

Instead, he stood weaponless behind a tree, nervous to see you again.

His heartbeat races when he hears footsteps coming from the other side of the fence. He’s finally made up his mind to turn around and leave when you finally spot him. He sees a flash of your smile before forcing his eyes to the dirt.

“Hi, mister,” you say, and just like yesterday, his feet don’t really work. “Sorry if I’m a little late, it’s only ‘cuz I was pulling this out the oven.” He looks over at you and sees the brown basket in your arms, a plaid napkin covering whatever was inside.

Thomas nears you, noticing how your long hair was pulled away from your face into a braid that disappeared behind your back. You wore the same dress, but Thomas liked the way it looked on you. It clung to your chest and loosened around your hips, but the material was thin enough that it stuck to your sweaty legs just slightly.

His attention was forced back to the basket when you put it against his chest. With an empty brain, he grabbed it with both hands from the bottom.

“It’s water pie. My nana used to make it during the Great Depression. Kinda feels like that again nowadays, huh?” you say.

You smile as you say it, but it doesn’t feel like your big smiles, like the kind you gave him when he found your cat, or like how you smiled when you saw him behind the tree.

Thomas opens the napkin to see a still warm pie in the basket, glossy with a mix of white and yellow. He’s never heard of water pie, but Momma didn’t get the chance to make a lot of desserts these days.

He walks to the shady tree, wiping a hand on his apron, and sits heavily with his back to the tree. He has to look over his shoulder to find you, and you’re still standing by the fence.

Annoyed that you’re so far away, he quickly gestures for you to join him.

You give him one of your real big smiles and jump over the fence before sitting next to him, back also to the tree. He watches you take a dull butter knife from the basket and slice the pie up. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Do you eat with that on?” you ask.

Thomas shakes his head. He keeps staring at her.

“Wanna take it off?” you ask next.

Thomas shakes his head again on instinct, but once he stops, he takes another look at the pie. He remembers it being warm still. His head nods once, the movement miniscule like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll look away if it makes you feel better. Swear I won’t look,” you say. Thomas breathes weird and turns away from her before reaching up to take it off.

You hear the buckles being undone and take it as your cue to turn away from the man.

It’s another hot day today, but you wouldn’t have missed your impromptu visit even if the fields were burning. Sure, the man might be odd, but he was mysterious as all get out and you longed to know more about him. It felt a little bit like you were a school girl again, crushing on a cute boy from your class, but it didn’t matter; you promised him repayment, and you always tried your hardest to make good on your word.

You reach behind yourself blindly for a piece from the basket and accidently brush against his hand.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you say with a little laugh, eyes trained ahead at the fence.

He takes a piece, then you take the slice next to his.

The filling is sticky and gooey, but it stuck together solid when you picked it up. You eat it slowly, savoring the memories that came with the taste, as well as the gentle breeze that picks up under the leaves.

You debate with yourself for some time about grabbing another slice but, figuring he probably wasn’t looking your way, you reach behind yourself and touch the ceramic pie dish instead. You run your hand in a circle and all you feel are crumbs.

“Well gee, mister, I’d’ve made two if I knew you’d be so hungry!” you said cheerfully, grinning as you brought your finger up to your mouth to lick it clean. It wasn’t exactly true, since you barely had the ingredients for one, but he probably already knew that, the town being in the state that it is. “I’m glad you liked it. An empty pie dish is a great compliment.”

You can hear the buckles of his mask again and keep busy by reaching for the basket behind you, folding the napkin back up. It’s pleasantly quiet before the question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since meeting the man finally springs out.

“What’s your name, mister?” you ask, still not looking at him. He doesn’t respond, and you risk glancing back at him. His mask is on, but he doesn’t look at you. It occurs to you that maybe the guy just can’t talk.

Opening the napkin again, you take out the knife and use the rounded tip to write in the dirt. It’s awkward and it’s none too pretty, but your name is clear enough to read. You look to him with a smile and hold the knife out to him, handle first.

He looks between the knife and your name on the ground before carefully taking it from your hand. You already knew his hands were massive but seeing the difference so plainly before your eyes made you blush. Tearing your gaze away from his appendages, you watch the dirt instead as he spells his name out. He writes it thickly, his muscles gouging out the dirt easily with a dull rounded tip. Thomas.

You glance up at him, and when your eyes meet, it feels like electricity.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” you say. You don’t expect an answer, but he nods anyways.

The sun was past its peak when you finally stood, brushing off your dress. Thomas met you at the fence after you had jumped over it again, basket swinging on your arm. You asked him if he could meet again tomorrow, promising another dessert.

He told himself to say no. He couldn’t picture hurting you the way he did when he first saw you, but he knew this wouldn’t be any good. He’s not the type to make friends, especially not with pretty ladies. It must be his heart controlling his neck muscles because he nodded instead. At least he got to see that smile again.

And so, he met with you again. And then again the day after. Then even the day after that one.

It was only a matter of time before his uncles and Momma realize he’s been out of the house for most of the day, but only Charlie says something about it during their family dinner. He’s loud in Thomas’ ear, and Thomas keeps his head down avoid looking at him. It makes him feel better to call him Charlie in his head. Not Hoyt. Just stupid drunk Charlie.

“You better focus on your work, boy,” Charlie threatens, steak knife pointing at him from across the table.

Thomas goes down to meet you the next day, anyways.

“Hi, Tommy,” you chirp happily, straddling the fence before hopping onto the other side. Thomas liked that you started calling him that, but he doesn’t let himself show it.

He rubs his hands on his apron to get the nerves out of his system and gives a little wave with his first free hand. You don’t have a basket today, but Thomas doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to see you.

“How’s your day treating you so far?” you ask, like you always do. Thomas shrugs, like he always does too. “Peanut misses you, I think. She wants to come with me, but always stops on the porch.”

Thomas thinks about the orange cat again. He wants to tell her that it probably just misses you, since it had been glaring at Thomas from your arms that day. Instead, he just tilts his head at you, not knowing how to gesture all that with his arms.

It’s easy to listen to you. Even when you leave open ended questions, you don’t make Thomas feel pressured to respond. He’d long since given up on pantomiming since he was a teenager, but people still annoyingly waited for his responses. You talked to him like he was an adult, and you never complained about having to deal with him.

You’re talking now, something about Peanut pushing things off counters, and all Thomas can feel is gladness. It’s been a long time since he felt it so strongly, so innocently. He kind of feels like a little kid again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you under the shady tree in the summertime.

When he touches your hand, you cut yourself off and look up at him. It startles him a little bit, because he realizes that he had nothing he really wanted to tell you. He just wanted to touch you.

“You doing okay?” you ask him, putting your other hand on top of his. Thomas looks down at your hands and nods. He’s doing better than okay. He wants to keep feeling your soft skin on his hand.

“You sure? Looks like somethings on your mind,” you say, sounding sorry. Thomas struggles with how to tell you, which he’s sure you notice. He suddenly takes your hand in his and flips it so that your palm is facing up and your smooth delicate wrist is visible. With his calloused dirty finger, he starts to spell.

“What are you doing?” you say, standing a little straighter and watching how he made the same shape again and again. “Are you… is that a K?”

Thomas nods quickly, looking at you for a split second before focusing down again and drawing a straight line.

“That’s an I. K-I…” you look at him attentively as he gathers his courage. He writes the next two letters quickly in succession. He does it once more before you look up at him, your pretty eyes wide and shinning. “S-S. Kiss.”

Thomas is sure his face is flushed, but he nods. There’s no backing out of it now.

“Oh, Tommy,” you say, and your confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, I’ll kiss you.”

He’s still hunched over from writing on your arm, so the hand you put on his cheek doesn’t have to work much to guide him towards your lips. You’re ready to lean in when your lip brushes against his mask. You laugh softly, running your hand down from his hair to stroke along his covered cheek.

“Can you take this off?” you ask softly.

Thomas shakes his head quickly, covering your hand with his as if you might try to rip it off of him anyways. He knows you wouldn’t, but he can’t think about risking it. Not when you’re so close.

You bite your lip as you think. His own lips move under the mask, imaging what it would be like to touch yours with his. He wishes he was normal. He wishes he had one of his real masks on.

You guide him down lower and tilt your face higher up, and Thomas can feel your lips on his forehead. His eyes close instinctually. He trusts you.

You kiss the spot between his eyebrows next, and he sighs shakily. His hands move your waist, holding you gently.

Then, you kiss the bridge of his nose, and your bottom lips must brush against the edge of his mask. His stomach turns at himself, but he pushes the feeling away.

Your lips follow along the edge of the mask, kissing on the little bit of skin showing under his left eye. When you kiss his temple, your hand moves to cup the back of his head and he shudders.

“I hope you’ll trust me enough, one day,” you say softly, and he practically bends in half to hide his face in your neck. He doesn’t cry, but his throat feels tight like he might. He swallows it all back. He shakes his head softly in the crook of your shoulder, wishing he could correct you. He would bare himself to you completely today if he didn’t think you would run screaming. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle that.

Your hands are a soft but persistent pressure on his shoulders. When he straightens up again, he looks down at you.

You lean up suddenly, lip slotting against his mask. Your top lip brushes between his. You taste like sugar and summer air. The kiss is done quickly, but Thomas can’t open his eyes yet. He licks his lips where yours just touched him and commits the taste to memory.

“You still in there?” you ask after a long moment, and Thomas opens his eyes to see you smiling playfully at him.

Thomas smiles when he nods, and stops nodding when you lean in to kiss him again.

He’s never felt so light in his life, having said goodbye to you at the fence after another hour of listening. You even kissed him goodbye, lips touching briefly through the mask as you stood on opposite sides of the fence.

Thomas promised you tomorrow, nodding at your request to see each other again.

His good mood lasts until he gets close enough to the house to hear shouting. He sees Charlie flailing his arms like a mad man by the back of the house, yelling Thomas’s name.

“Where in the ever-loving fuck have you been?” he shouted by the garage, spit flying. Thomas hurried his gait as he neared them. Charlie was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. He steeled himself for what the furious man would sling at him next. “I’ve been screaming for you for the past fucking two hours. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas! You know, I defend you when people call you names, but maybe you are slow. Just how fucking gone are you up there, huh?!”

Thomas glares at the dirt, imagines pushing his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes until he can’t scream anymore.

“I can’t even look at you, you fucking disappointment. I brought home two stupid as fuck tree-humpers for you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to me. Look!” he grabs Thomas’ apron and shakes him, and Charlie makes him look at the cut on his head. It’s nothing, Thomas has seen him give himself worse when he’s drunk.

“Go get your toy and mow those fuckers down. They’re not getting far, not after what I done to one of them,” he mutters, looking down the dirt road where Thomas can see the distant figures of two limping people. Sighing, Thomas takes off after them, grabbing a hammer from one of the junk piles by the garage.

He didn’t think about you until well into the early morning. He is taking a break from his work, sitting outside while the rest of the family slept in their bedrooms. Blood coated his apron, and he sat on the wide porch with a heavy sigh. He thought about you, wondered how someone so nice could ever want somebody like him.

Thomas was not stupid. He knew murdering people was wrong, just like he knew he was wrong for liking it so much. And he knew he was wrong for liking you.

Rubbing his new face with both hands, he hauled himself up to walk back to the basement. He readjusted the eyeholes as he walked – he had made them too small this time. He’d have to fix that before he did anything else.

Thomas is only one step away from the trees when Charlie hollers his name from the back porch. Thomas sets his jaw and looks over his shoulder to see his uncle gesturing and shouting at him. He can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and he doesn’t really care to. He doesn’t let up, though, so Thomas forces himself to turn back around and trudge back to the house.

He stands in front of Charlie silently.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. Thomas has no way of answering, even if he wanted to. His arms cross thickly over his chest instead.

Charlie glowers at him, and Thomas’ stare is just as dark.

“You listen to me, boy. Now, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, but I think I had good reason to be cross with you. Your family needs you here, Thomas. We need you to keep us safe. What if something happened to your momma?”

Thomas’ eyes glance at the house, where he knew his momma was resting comfortably. Still, the thought unnerved him. Looking back at Charlie, he sees the self-satisfied look on his face, like he knows he won.

“Be a good guard dog and guard the fucking house. Please.”

Thomas’ jaw tightened. He thought about you, walking from your home to see him. Thought about what you might’ve brought, although he wouldn’t care either way as long as you were there. But Charlie had a point. What if Charlie brought guests and they tried to hurt one of them? What if they hurt Momma?

A frustrated noise left his throat and he stomped away from Charlie back to his basement. He couldn’t think straight. The damn sun shined too brightly, and it made his head hurt. Slamming the door to the basement shut, he welcomes the darkness and sets his sights on his unfinished projects.

He only rises from his basement when the sun starts to set. A walk through the house tells Thomas he’s alone, the other members dispersing to be on their own too.

He’d been sad, passing the time while thinking about you getting stood up. Sadness in his chest, he walked to the fence anyways. He might feel better if he could just look at it and imagine how you look in your pretty dress.

At the end of his trek, he freezes as he passes the last low hanging branch. There you are, laying unconscious by the oak tree. He rushes to your side and hesitates helplessly before kneeling next to you. He holds onto your shoulders and tries to shake you awake, harsher and harsher as you don’t wake up. He’s beginning to panic when you suddenly open your eyes with a gasp. You stare up at Thomas with wide eyes. They shine in the white Texan moonlight.

“Thomas?” you whisper.

“What time is it?”  You sit up and Thomas stays next to you, arms awkwardly hovering around you like you might fall asleep again. He’s breathing hard like he’s been running. “Is it nighttime already?”

Thomas nods, sighing finally once he catches his breath. Head low, he touches your arm and drags his hand down past your elbow to catch your hand. His brows are drawn, and despite his size, he seems to shrink as he clutches you like something delicate that might blow out of his hold.

He looks up when you touch his chin, gently guiding him to meet your eye.

“You okay? Did something happen?” you ask him. Thomas just shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. He carefully turns your arm over, revealing your wrist. There, he writes down four letters. S-O-R-Y.

“Sorry? Oh, bubba, you don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur, smiling at him. “I needed a little nap, anyways. C’mere.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a little hug. He melts into you, forehead pressed against the crook of your neck.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, hand rubbing down his spine. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I should start on back,” you say after a few silent moments, your hand still rubbing comforting circles on his back. Thomas stiffens and pulls away, and he won’t meet your gaze. You don’t want to part from him tonight, you realize.

When he glances at you, you’re biting your lip.

“Unless you know somewhere we can spend the night?” you suggest softly. Thomas’s face is blank as he thinks about it, but he soon stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he hauls you up, leading the way through the trees. You like how he holds your hand, all encompassing and pleasantly warm in the breezy night air.

He brings you to a barn, standing alone in an empty field. It looks out of use, but bales of hay still line some of the walls, as well as some common tools for the land. You don’t bother looking around too much – you only have eyes for your Tommy. He stands in the barn, looking around for the best spot to lay down. You know it’s wherever he is, his wide chest looks like it’ll be a softer pillow than what you have at home.

“Tommy, c’mere,” you say, finding a bed of dry hay that looks cleaner than the rest. You sit down first, laying back in the rustling fodder. Your eyes meet his as you stretch your arms above your head.

Thomas stands above you. His eyes are dark.

“Lay down with me,” you speak softly. Thomas glances out the open barn doors for a moment before giving up on whatever battle was going on through his mind. You watch him unfasten his dirty apron and hang it off one of the half stables beside them. He lays down beside you, his heavy weight making the pile unsteady. You fall into him with a little laugh, a steadying hand on his chest.

“Oops,” you say with a little smile. You’re surprised to see Thomas return it. He has such a handsome smile; you wish he would smile more for you.

Leaning up, you kiss him through his mask, hands coming up to hold his face.

He exhales heavily, it almost sounds like a moan. He tries to kiss you back, but it’s impossible through the thick leather. Sighing  softly, you kiss his temple and forehead instead, trying not to seem too frantic. It’s difficult, though, as you feel your body make you aware just how badly its craving Thomas.

“Please, Tommy. Please. I wanna kiss you. Please take it off,” you whisper, lips brushing against his tanned skin.

Thomas goes stiff hearing his pleas and pulls away. You watch him go with a pout. He turns away from you slightly.

“Thomas,” you say softly. He turns away further. Sighing quietly, you touch his shoulder. “Tommy. You know it don’t matter to me how you look. Not one bit. I’m always gonna think you’re my handsome guy.”

Thomas shakes his head, but you don’t give up. Kneeling, you hug him from behind, arms wrapping up to his shoulders from underneath his arms.

“I mean it, Tommy.” You put your forehead on his warm back. “I would never think bad about you. Hell, you could kill someone and I’d find a way to defend you,” you say with a little teasing smile. You feel Thomas put his hand on your forearm, gentle and unmoving.

“I could keep my eyes closed,” you suggest quietly. Thomas turns at that and looks at you with imploring eyes. You smile at him, small and secret, and free an arm to cup his cheek. You kiss the bridge of his nose just above his mask before pulling away.

You sit up and turn away from him partially, eyes closing and hands coming up to cover your eyes. “Ok, Tommy. I’m ready.”

In the dark, you rely on sounds. It’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear the buckle of the mask being undone. You exhale shakily, your heart beating near out of your chest. He must have set it down on the ground beside them because you can feel his hands on you, one on your elbow and the other covering your hands just over your eyes.

You’ve never really been described as small, but you feel it next to him. Even without vision, his presence alone towers over you. It should be intimidating, but it only makes you feel safe.

Your lips part and you drop your hands, letting Thomas touch your face directly. It’s even better since you can now put your hands around his back and hold him close.

Despite his size, he kisses you timidly, like he’s shy you’ll shatter into pieces with too much force applied. His touch is so gentle, even as he crowds you. You kiss him back passionately, encouraging him silently with your enthusiasm. You suddenly long to be naked in front of him, to let him blindfold you and use you however he needs. You know he’d be careful with you if this is how he kisses.

“Tommy,” you murmur between kisses, hands fisting in his shirt. “Tommy, I think I love you.”

Thomas can’t answer you, but he kisses you again and again like he’s saying the same.

Weeks pass. The summer turns into autumn, but the heat doesn’t go anywhere. Thomas can’t meet every day, but he wishes he could. Tourists come by from time to time, and everyone in the family does their part to make ends meet.

You’re all alone out here, he knows from your late-night talks. On evenings where neither of you had anything to do the next morning, you and Thomas would walk together to the barn. You always clung to his arm once the building was in sight, glancing up at him from time to time with your shiny eyes. He’s pretty sure you were both a little nervous everytime, but it was a good kind of nervous. He didn’t know there could be a good kind until he met you.

Thomas holds you on the hay pile, more comfortable now with a blanket you brought from home thrown over the mound. You’re naked, and Thomas likes your soft cool skin against his own. Although you’re both covered in sweat, the night is cool and comfortable, and Thomas likes the way you rub your hand slowly across his chest.

When your stomach growls, Thomas glances at you.

“Sorry,” you say. You smile, but it looks sad. “Just hungry. It’s been hard finding stuff to eat with the town being empty.” He knows the feeling well.

He takes your arm from where it’s resting on his stomach and gently twists your wrist towards himself. H-O-M-E, he spells.

“Mine?” you ask softly, head cocking to the side.

Thomas shakes his head and points to himself.

“Yours? What about it?” you ask softly, looking up from your wrist.

F-O-O-D, he spells next. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh, Tommy. You’re too kind to me,” you say softly, and Tommy lets go of your arm so that you can hug him.

His arms instinctually go around your waist, holding you close. He wants to tell you that he’s not just being kind. He would give everything he owns to you if what he owned was worth giving. He kicks himself mentally for not thinking about getting you some food sooner, though.

“Can we go tomorrow?” you ask. He wants to bring you there today, but there won’t be any food this late. He nods, hands running down your back slowly. He can feel his rough callouses catch on your smooth skin, but you don’t flinch or move away. You never have from him. He wants you, more than he wants to butcher, more than he wants to help his family.

“I should go home,” you say. The sky is dark, but the moon is large and bright in the sky, like the sun. Thomas shakes his head.

“No?” you say, laughing a little bit. You lean back and cup his cheeks over his mask. When you smile down at him, he imagines the touch of your lips against his own. On your back, he draws four letters, S-T-A-Y.

“All night?” you ask, pushing some hair off his forehead.

He nods, eyes stuck to your lips, so close but impossible to reach in that moment.

“Won’t your family be looking for you?” you wonder. You rub your thumb along his eyebrow, soothing him into shutting his eyes.

Thomas shakes his head slightly at the question, not wanting to knock your hands off him. He’s sure Charlie will be mad, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he has you in his arms.

“In that case,” you start, moving your legs apart to straddle his hips, “I suppose I’ve got you all to myself.” Thomas watches you closely as you run your hands down his chest and past his stomach, settling just above his open belt. Neither of you get very much sleep that night.

In the morning, he takes you by the hand as he leads you through the front door. The house is quiet despite its size, which makes it seem like it should be teeming with activity and sound. The outside is grey and dusty, same as the front foyer where you stand beside Thomas. You glance around, giving him a nervous smile when you finally hear footsteps coming from the other room.

“Thomas Hewitt, where have you been all night! You had us worried sick!” an older lady says, coming through the doorway. She’s short and plump, with tendrils of her grey hair framing her face, and her glasses make her look like a schoolteacher. She stops when she sees you, clearly surprised. “Oh! You brought company!”

You smile at her, stepping forward as she comes to meet you. She grins at you and takes your hands in her own.

“Hi, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” you say, introducing yourself with your name.

“Oh, the manners on this one! Usually, our guests are a little more ornery!” she says to Thomas, laughing. You don’t understand what she means, but you smile graciously as she tries to lead you back to the room she was in. You start to follow her, but stumble against Thomas as he blocks your way. He shakes his head at her.

“No?” the lady questions. She looks confused, but Thomas shakes his head again. He takes your hands from her, and then you feel his arm around your shoulder, keeping you at his side. “Thomas? What on earth is going on with you?”

You’re just as confused, but you don’t want to get in between a family dispute. You look up at Thomas, waiting to see what he does next.

“Is she why you didn’t come home last night?” the woman asks. A cold sweat blooms on the back of your neck with her face falls completely, turning into a blank mask. You’ve only just met her, but you can hardly recognize her from the woman that took your hands.

“I’m Thomas’ girlfriend,” you say, your voice smaller than you intended. You try to clear your throat politely. “I care about him very much, ma’am.”

You gasp when the woman turns on you, her finger pointed at your face as she snaps, “I don’t know how you tricked my son into falling for your tricks, you whore! Hoyt!” Thomas grunts, and the noise startles you – you’ve never heard the man make a sound louder than a labored breath before. Thomas pushes you behind his back and away from who must be his mother.

“No, I’m not a whore,” you say, but your voice is so meek under her disapproving stare. You clutch onto Thomas’ arm, and you can feel his tense muscles.

Someone stomps down the stairs then, an older man in a sheriff’s uniform. Seeing the pistol on his belt, you start to shake.

“And who do we have here?” the man drawls – Hoyt, your mind supplies,

Thomas shakes his head vigorously and stands in front of you completely now, shielding you from his mother and the Sheriff.

“She says she’s Tommy’s girlfriend!” his mother cries, as if she was grieving. The man barks a laugh at that, loud and unbelieving.

“A girlfriend, Tommy! That’s where you’ve been running off to all these weeks! How much he owe you, trollop? Because he ain’t got no money to give,” the man mocks meanly, guffawing as he tries to walk around Thomas to get a better look. You shrink behind Thomas as he does his best to keep you hidden away. “Bet you found her trying to hitch a ride off the highway.”

“I lived in this town my whole life, sir. I swear I’m no hussy,” you say, voice weak and muffled against Thomas’s back.

“Oh, yeah? That mean you two are in love or something?” he says, managing to grab your forearm and pull you out from behind Thomas. You shout in pain as you’re pulled between the two men, causing Thomas to let go of you. Without your shield, you’re faced with the old man and his drunk breath. You cringe away from him when he leans into you, inspecting you like you’re just a thing.

“Just get her out of here,” Thomas’ mother mourns.

“I ain’t no hussy!” you sob, eyes closed as tears start to escape your lashes. The old man laughs in your face, and he shakes you with his grip on your arm.

“Hear that, Momma? She ain’t no hussy! So, you sleep with Tommy for free?”

“I love him,” you sob, face crumpling as you feel yourself finally break. You wish you understood what you did wrong by these people. Thomas tries to break you and Hoyt apart, but the man shoves him away despite being smaller than him.

“Love? You love him?” Hoyt almost screams with laughter. “Does she even know what you do, Tommy? She ever see you without that mask on?

“Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? Take it off, Thomas! Shouldn’t your girlfriend know what you look like?” he turns you in his arms, forcing you to face Thomas. Your heartbreaks for him, and you see Thomas duck his head down low, arms bent by his stomach as he anxiously fidgets his hands.

“Stop it, leave him alone!” you sob, trying to wrench yourself out of the man’s hold.

“Why? Don’t you wanna see what he looks like? Pretty thing like you should have a handsome boyfriend to go along with it, huh?” Desperate, you look behind you to see Thomas’s mother watching the scene unfold with a handkerchief under her nose. You cry out when the man shakes you again, his grip unforgiving for such an old man.

“You know what? Why don’t we give your girlfriend here a tour, huh Tommy? What do you say?” Hoyt asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts to drag you out through the front door and down the porch steps.

You stumble down them, almost falling out of the man’s arms, but he forces you upright again before going around to the back of the house. Thomas follows you both, and you can see the frantic way he tries to grab for you but hesitates. Even now, you know your sweet Tommy is afraid to hurt you, but you wish he would rip you out from Hoyt’s grip and stand up for himself.

At the cellar door, Hoyt lets go of one arm to push open the wooden door. You can’t see beyond where the sunlight hits the steps.

“Don’t be shy. Go see,” Hoyt says, before you’re pushed down the steps. You shout as you fall, managing to cover your head with your hands, but your body throbs in pain once you land on the cold concrete below.

You weep at his cruelty, curling in on yourself to hide away from the next blow. Instead, you can hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps down the wooden steps. His thick arms wrap around you, and he holds you tightly to his chest.

“Tommy,” you sob, pushing your face into his chest.

“Tell her, Tommy! Tell her what you do! Share your family pride!” Charlie shouts, laughing at them.

“That’s enough,” Luda Mae says quietly from somewhere behind him.

“Show her who you really are, boy, then see if she loves you,” Charlie says. Then he slams the door to the basement shut, leaving them both in darkness.

“Tommy,” you whimper through your tears, starting to lift your head out from his chest. You’re stopped by Thomas’s large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you close. You can’t see the room, but it smells like blood and rot, and it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t ask him because he won’t be able to explain anyways. Hoyt’s words echo in your mind, and even if it makes no sense, you can understand that something is wrong here. But Thomas holds you and rocks you like a child until you have no more tears to give.

You wake up when the setting sun turns the sky orange. You rub your eyes and sit up, suddenly aware that you’re in an unfamiliar place. No one is around. Looking around the room, you see it’s a simple bedroom, with threadbare sheets. The only furniture besides your bed is a nightstand and a dresser with a missing drawer.

“Tommy?” you say out loud, but you don’t hear anything in response. You stand up and go downstairs, realizing as you enter the foyer that you’re still at Thomas’s house.

In the kitchen is the same woman from before.

“Oh, hi, darling. I figured you’d wake up soon. I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Tommy’s momma,” she says, like she wasn’t accusing you of something terrible earlier in the day. You smile weakly at her. You want to ask where Tommy is. You want to go home.

“Why don’t you sit down? You missed supper but I’ve got some leftovers still on the stove.”

You hesitate, but finally make your way to the kitchen table. Your stomach growls at the promise of food as you sit.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for before.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think any of us understood how much you meant to our Tommy.”

You smile and start to eat when she puts the bowl in front of you.

“Where is Tommy?” you ask, looking up at her.

“Working,” she sighs, smiling at you. “We had guests come by in the afternoon.”

“Like a bed and breakfast?” you ask naively. She laughs at you, right to your face.

“You’re a funny one, girl. I see why Thomas likes you. Pretty and with a good sense of humor.”

You smile, laughing shakily as you eat some of the stew. You can’t tell if it’s pork, beef, or rabbit.

“I want to see Tommy. Where can I find him?” you try again.

“He’s working, sweetheart. He made it very clear he don’t want you in the basement anymore.”

Flashes of the basement make you dizzy, and you shake your head.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, dropping your spoon in the bowl and holding your face with both hands.

She sighs gently and puts her hand on top of your head. She rubs your hair flat gingerly.

“Oh, baby. You are home. Everything’s gonna be alright now. You’ve got us to take care of you.” She lets go of you and gets back to her work from before you came down. “You just let Tommy blow off some steam first. He and Hoyt got into a little fight after he brought you to bed. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You swallow thickly as you look around the grey kitchen. You wonder what kind of work Thomas could be doing in that basement with his guests. You look at the bowl of food in front of you.

You’re so hungry.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Halloween Headcanons feat. the Sinclair Brothers

Just some good ole sfw Halloween headcanons for the boys from House of Wax

WC: 359

Genre: Fluff

Content Warning: none

If I’ve missed something that should be warned about above in this piece, please let me know.

SFW but MDNI

Doesn't care for any holidays really

But he finds Halloween useful, what are the suspicious red stains on the ground? Why do the wax figures have skeletons and smell of death when broken? Why is there a masked man walking around with a knife? It's Halloween and they're setting up a haunted town obviously

He doesn't dress up, but he won't say no if you want to dress up (he especially loves it when you dress up in a 'sexy' costume)

He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, so he doesn't care about candy, since there is no one in town to hand candy out to, so don't expect him to buy any

You know those intricately sculpted pumpkin works of art that so see on every single social media site in the lead-up to Halloween? Yeah, you won’t be getting any of those out of Vincent.

He tries, really he does, he wants to make the most amazing pumpkin ever, but carving pumpkins and carving wax is just so different, he has a lot of trouble.

Still loves carving pumpkins with you though, and will happily spend all day carving pumpkins and roasting pumpkin seeds. You then get to snack on the pumpkin seeds while displaying your plethora of pumpkins throughout Ambrose.

Like his twin, he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so he’s not much into the Halloween candy, but if you like it he’ll ask Lester to pick some up for you.

Has a huge sweet tooth, so as soon as the stores in the nearby towns start getting Halloween candy in he's all over it, you are stocked up

Doesn't really care about dressing up, but if you want to he'll dress in matching costumes

He likes watching old horror movies with you, so his favourite thing to do on Halloween is curl up on the couch with you, a bowl of Halloween candy, and a bunch of old movies to watch

When it comes down to it Lester just loves being with you, so anything you want to do for the holiday is good with him.

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Reader heads down to the garage to flirt with Bo, but a misunderstanding nearly ruins their relationship before it can even begin.

WC: 2819

Genre: Hurt/Comfort?

Content Warning: toxic behaviour, abuse, violence, self destructive thoughts, Bo calls the reader Bitch and Whore, Bo Sinclair should be a warning in himself.

If I've missed something that should be warned about above in this piece, please let me know.

SFW but MDNI

“Well, well, well, looks like the lyin’ whore is finally showing ‘her true colours.” Bo’s eyes were filled with a cold fury, you could see his jaw tensing up and a vein in his neck pulsing. He wasn’t angry with you, no, he was furious.

You weren’t too sure where things had gone so wrong. Your day had started normally enough, you had woken up to the sound of Lester stomping around getting ready for his day, and you had gotten up too. You had got ready for the day and then you headed down into the kitchen to make coffee for Lester before starting on breakfast for you and Bo. Your interactions with both of them that morning had been cordial enough, being a ‘guest’ in Ambrose for the last 3 months you had started building more trust with them, and murder aside you truly enjoyed being in the town, it was the change of pace that you had needed.

After Bo and Lester had left for the day you had cleaned up a bit before you decided to do something stupid brave. You had been dancing around your feelings for Bo for quite a while, when you had first met him he was charming and you couldn’t deny how attractive you had found him. Things had changed a bit after the truth of Ambrose had come to light, the friends you had been traveling with were dead, and you didn’t explore the town much, even with the freedoms you were given, too afraid to walk into a building and seeing them staring back at you. So for the first month you had pushed down your attraction to Bo, after all, he was rude, and had a hair-trigger temper that you were still working on understanding. But then as time went on you began seeing more sides of the Sinclairs, you had seen how sweet and caring they could be underneath, you had seen how they truly cared for one another, and you desperately wanted that too, you wanted to be loved and cared for, and you knew that despite everything that had happened, you were still attracted to Bo, and you thought he might be interested in you.

And so, after psyching yourself up you decided you were going to go down to the garage and chat with Bo a bit, and maybe if you felt stupid brave enough, you’d flirt with him a bit, see if his attraction to you was real or if it was all in your head.

And that was what had led you to this point here, Bo gazing at you with barely restrained fury, looking like he might cross the garage and attack you at any second. 

“What?” You flinched backwards as he took a step towards you, barely finding your voice enough to squeak out a confused response. “I don’t understand”

“Don’t understand?” He crossed the shop faster than you had thought he was capable of, and in an instant he had your arm in a bruising grip, pulling you towards him as he got in your face, “What’s there to not understand darlin’? I was wonderin’ how long this lil act o’ yours was gonna go on for, and I guess now I know.”

“What act, I don’t - I don’t” You were finding it hard to find the words, it had been months since you had felt this amount of fear, you didn’t understand why he was so angry with you, coming down here had clearly been a mistake, now you just wanted to get away from him and get back to the house, back home, you could throw yourself into chores and avoid Bo for the rest of your life, yes, that seemed like a reasonable plan, you just needed him to let go of you, he just needed to let go. 

“Ya don’t, ya don’t what?” He was yelling so close to your face you could feel spit hitting your face as he practically frothed at the mouth in anger. 

When you didn’t immediately answer he shook you violently, nearly throwing you to the floor. That was when the dam broke, you started sobbing, unable to stop yourself, barely keeping yourself upright. You could only stand there, trembling and crying as he shook you, demanding an answer to a question you didn’t understand.

“I-I, I’m - I’m - I’m, s-” You couldn’t get the words out, barely being able to talk through the sobs wracking your body. You just wanted to get the words out, apologise for whatever you had done wrong and get out of here, but you just couldn’t.

In the back of your mind you could hear him mocking your sobbing stutter as you struggled to get the words out, he was getting angrier as time went on, you just needed to get the words out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” you nearly collapsed, his bruising grip on your arm practically the only thing keeping you upright, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He finally let you go, and you nearly dropped to the ground, luckily you were close enough to the counter that you were able to brace yourself against it to keep yourself upright. You wanted to put more space between the two of you but were scared that if you moved he’d come after you again, so you just stood there, trying to get control of your breathing, staring at the ground, trying to focus on anything other than Bo. 

“Yer damn straight you ain’t gonna try that fuckin’ shit again, ya got that.” He stepped back, giving you a bit of space, “Knew this little act of yours was too good to be true, comin' in here, thinking ya can flirt your way out of here. Well, I got news for ya, you're here for life, and that doesn’t have to be a long time darlin’ so think carefully on how ya wanna act.”

The pieces started to click into place, he had thought that you were only flirting with him to get out of Ambrose, but that wasn’t the case, maybe if you explained it to him, then he’d understand, and things would be okay.

“That’s not what I was trying to do,” you wiped your face, tears still streaming down, but not as badly as before, you were hopeful, you could make him understand and then it would be okay, “I don’t want to leave, I want to stay here, I just wanted to hang out with you, I like you.”

As it turned out, that had not been the correct thing to do, reasoning with Bo when he was this angry was near impossible, the smarter thing to do would have been to just shut up and accept what he had said, move on with the day and never bring it up again. But you had just had to try and fix things. The sudden stinging sensation across your face had your ears ringing and took your legs out from under you. You didn’t even realise that he had backhanded you until you were on the ground, hand on your cheek, looking up at him in confusion.

This was too much, you wanted to go home, he was even angrier now and you were truly scared for what was going to happen to you. And then the bell to the shop rang, and your saviour, Lester, arrived. 

“Wha- what’s goin’ on in ‘ere?” He was at your side in an instant, helping you up, bringing you away from Bo, towards the door, towards freedom. He stopped short though, letting you go and turning back to Bo after he said something, “What was that?”

“I said that lying whore is trying to leave,” Lester looked back at you in shock, you tried to shake your head, to tell him that it wasn’t true, but shaking your head hurt and made you dizzy, and you were scared to speak again. 

“Tha- that can’t be true, she likes it here,” he looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded as well as you could, “See Bo, whatever is going on it’s jus’ a lil misunderstanding, tha’s all, just a lil misunderstanding.”

“That bitch came in here, trying to flirt with me, thinkin' I’d let her go if she batted her lil eyelashes and looked cute.” Bo turned away, walking to the other side of the garage while Lester followed behind him, at a safe distance, trying to comfort his brother.

Lester turned back to you, a look of betrayal on his face, “You said you like it here, you said you was gonna stay with us,” the look on his face nearly broke your heart, it hurt so much to hear how little they actually trusted you, how quickly they’d turn on you, and that was enough to make you start crying again.

“I’m going home,” You barely managed to croak your declaration out through your renewed sobbing, “I’m going home.”

And with that you turned and ran, tears blurring your vision as you ran from the garage, toward safety, towards your home. You could hear Bo and Lester yelling after you, but they didn’t give chase. By the end of your race back to the house you were nearly out of breath, practically hyperventilating as you walked in through the door.

“You’re so stupid, why are you so stupid?” You were muttering to yourself, needing to voice the thoughts in your head, you were scared, but you were also angry, angry at yourself for being so stupid, “Why would you think anyone would ever care about you? You’re so useless, so fuckin pathetic.”

You broke down again, crying on the floor of the entryway. You were so caught up in your turmoil that you didn’t even notice Vincent sitting at the kitchen table, eating lunch silently. He didn’t know what was going on, but you looked like you needed someone. 

He quietly walked over to you, Jonsey trailing silently behind him, curious as to the disturbance. You were startled and a bit embarrassed when Vincent crouched down next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the comforting touch, Vincent always seemed to be there for you when you were at your worst, a silent yet comforting presence. You looked up to him, giving him a weak, watery smile, trying to reassure him that you were okay.

Not wanting to be left out Jonsey quickly muscled her way in, shoving herself between you and Vincent, silently demanding attention, attention that you were more than happy to give her, sinking your fingers into her coat, giving her the pats she was demanding was a soothing experience, plus it gave you something to focus on, anchored you helping you begin to calm down.

The three of you sat in silence for a while, until you finally risked breaking it, shattering the tranquil moment.

“Why am I so stupid?” You weren’t quite sure if you were asking yourself or Vincent the question this time, but it was the only thing you could think of to ask.

Vincent just tilted his head in response, giving it a little shake, it was clear that he was confused at your question.

“I’m so stupid,” and with that, the tears came again, “I-I thought that he could like me, but that’s so stupid, so so stupid, why would he like someone as pathetic as me?”

Vincent looked even more confused, and gestured for you to wait a moment, and he quickly left you, taking off into the house looking for something. He returned with a pad of paper, he communicated with his brothers through sign language, and while you were still trying to learn you were having difficulties and couldn’t understand him most of the time, so when the two of you talked he would write for you instead.

“I don’t understand, why are you saying those things? Who upset you?”

“I told Bo I like him, it was a stupid thing to do, why would someone as great as him want to be with someone like me?”

You turned away from Vincent, almost ashamed for having said it aloud, that you liked his brother, what if he reacted like Bo and Lester, what if this was the end of your stay in Ambrose? You could hear him scribbling away on the pad, hastily writing a response to you.

“My brother is stupid, he’d be lucky to have you.”

You took your time reading his response, it confused you, why was he saying that?

“But even Lester agreed, when I said I liked Bo, when I flirted with him, they both acted like I was trying to run away, but I don’t want to leave, I love Ambrose, I love you guys, I don’t want to have to leave.”

Vincent gently rubbed your shoulder in a comforting gesture again, before doing something that completely took you off guard, he wrapped both arms around you, drawing you into a hug. The first hug you’d had since arriving in Ambrose, and it nearly made you break down in tears again, your emotions were just so frayed.

After a moment longer he gently released you, patting you on the back as he picked his paper back up, beginning to pen another response.

“A lot of tourists, especially women, try to flirt with us, with all of us, to try and get us to let down our guard, to let them go. I don’t think that’s what you were trying to do, but Bo probably did, and I know he likes you, he must’ve felt betrayed, that you were trying to manipulate him. It doesn’t excuse his overreaction, but he’s got a bad temper, let him settle himself down, and then you can talk to him later.”

You nodded at Vincent, “Okay, I’ll try that.”

Both of you were startled at the sound of the door crashing open. Turning around you saw Bo, still looking pissed as hell standing in the doorway.

“Well, well, ain’t this cozy,” He took a few quick strides towards you, ready to grab you again, only to be blocked by Vincent standing in his path. “Well, looky here, flirtin’ with me didn’t work so you ran right off to my brother, smart choice, he’s the better one, he’s the good twin, I’m just the monster.”

Vincent began signing something, you couldn’t understand what he was saying to Bo, but you could see Bo’s face going through a multitude of emotions.

“Whatever, you don’t know shit,” Vincent signed something else to him, Bo just scoffed in response before turning to you, “And you, the fuck ‘re you doin' here? Thought you wanted to go home, that's what you were shouting before.”

“I am home.” You hadn’t expected your simple words to affect Bo, you had expected more anger and derision, for him to storm out leaving you with Vincent, instead, you saw his features soften, just a bit, but enough to be noticeable. 

“Home, eh?” He smirked at you, walking around Vincent to kneel by you, bringing his hand up to cup your face, eyeing the bruise forming on your cheek, “That’s right, this is your home, and you’re not goin' anywhere right doll?”

Not trusting your voice you nodded, leaning into his touch, softly shutting your eyes. You had no idea how you were able to be so calm with him now after what happened not 30 minutes ago, but Bo had a knack for making you feel safe, though you were going to have to be more careful around his temper in the future.

“Did ya mean what you said then?” You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face, “You said you like me, is that true?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch even more, “I do, I like it here, I want to stay with you.” You looked over to Vincent and added, “With all of you.”

Bo shifted, sitting next to you on the floor, pulling you into him, into a somewhat awkward hug, but a hug nonetheless, and you felt yourself relaxing further into his embrace.

“‘M sorry, I know I got a bad temper,” He was speaking so softly, almost as though he didn’t want people to hear what he was saying, he sounded so soft, so vulnerable, it wasn’t something you thought you’d ever say about Bo, “I’ll work on it, promise.”

You knew it’d be a hard promise for him to keep, that temper of his was bad, but you’d never heard Bo apologise before or admit to any wrongdoing, normally just justifying his temper and reactions. But you wanted to trust him, to believe him when he said he’d work on it, you could help him, you could be happy with him, you were sure of it.

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Blog Basics

You can call me Amber, and I'm 27

I will take requests, though I don't have a timeline on when I will necessarily write them. I also reserve the right to refuse any request for any reason, including just not feeling it.

My entire blog, regardless of the content of individual posts is 18+ MDNI, if you do not have your age or indicator of your age in either your blog description or in a pinned post you will be blocked

Masterlist

You can find my masterlist here -> {MASTERLIST}

Requesting

See the below information for request formatting and information.

A request that is all you, as detailed or simple as you'd like to make it.

ex/ "Can I get headcannons on how Lester would react to finding you playing with Jonsey?"

A request that comes from a prompt list that I have reblogged, specify the list and the prompt.

ex/ "Can you do “At least you tried. You failed miserably, and your children’s children will hear about it, but you tried.” from the Alphabetical List of Random Sentence Starters prompt list with Bo Sinclair?"

Completely random, you choose (or use a random number generator to choose) 2 numbers, one 1-10 (may change as I add more characters to write for) and the other 1-302 and I will write whatever prompt that happens to be with whichever character it happens to be. (every so often I may change up the number order of the prompts and characters so that it doesn't become too easy to figure out. Alternatively you can ask for a GWYG or put this 🎰 emoji in the askbox and I'll randomise the numbers.

ex/ "Can I get a GWYG, numbers 5 & 73" or "Can I get a GWYG?" or "🎰"

Types of Prompt Fills

GWYG and Prompt list fills will almost always be completed as a fic or drabble, headcannons can be requested as a custom request.

A shorter fill. Will generally be bullet points.

A short fic, 500 words or less.

Any response over 500 words.

Nothing explicit, it may be suggestive, but there is no explicit sex scenes. Does not mean that it won't contain dark content, just nothing too sexy.

Explicit sexual content, not for reading around anyone who might be reading over your shoulder. (I'm still practicing writing N/SFW so I make no promises as to the quality of this writing)

[blushing-ghost-stories]

♡ Yandere Alphabet ♡

Remastered with permission from the creator. Original alphabet found here.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Meet Uglies

Unlike with Meet Cutes the future couple doesn't meet under the best circumstances. Do not repost.

singing off-key in their parked car and suddenly a person outside starts laughing

getting set up on a blind date and not having the best reaction when they first see each other

meeting in the bathroom at a house party, battling over who needs the bathroom more

being together in class and on the first day they debate each other so relentlessly that the teacher has to step in

tutoring the other one, but realizing quickly that they just act dumb because they are lazy

fighting over a parking spot at Walmart

learning in the library when the other one starts loudly talking on the phone

accidentally getting elbowed in the face while swimming in a public pool

being divorce attorneys on opposite sides and fighting more than their clients

going to an art gallery and critiquing the art without realizing that the artist is standing right there

falling asleep on their seat neighbor's shoulder on a plane and definitely snoring and drooling on them

jokingly catcall the other one in a different language, not knowing they can understand that language

getting in an argument over their respective pets

both showing up to their lover's door, realizing that they've been cheated on with each other

thinking the other one is their date from a dating app and just sitting down with them and instantly starting to talk, while their actual date never shows up

coming in for a chemistry read, but the casting director thinks they have an awful chemistry

shooting with each other as models while really disliking the clothing in general and the other's poses in particular

getting hit in the face with a snowball intended for someone else

being hired as a stripper for a party where they actually know some people

calling the conductor on the train, because the other one is sitting on the seat they booked and don't want to move

getting mistaken for their own twin who also didn't have the best encounter with the other person

hammering on their neighbor's door to make them turn off the music since it's 3 am

being an influencer and having a stranger constantly photo bombing them

panicking when someone covers their eyes from behind, getting mistaken for the other's friend

having a power struggle at their clients' wedding, one being the photographer, one being the videographer

fighting over the last donut in the bakery

being hired as each other's assassins, but always getting away from each other

accidentally setting off the fire alarm in the building and getting a pissed off firefighter in return

cutting in line is just not acceptable and they will let the other person know that

getting into a heated argument in a sports bar

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Meet Cutes

A whole bunch of cute ways for your characters to meet.

losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them

it’s raining and they huddle together under a small roof

getting set up by their lovely grandmas, who always go to the same café and gush about their grandkids

being the new student, one of them gets assigned to the other person as their “buddy” to show them the new school

literally running into each other, holding drinks

getting cast in the same play/show

interviewing people on the street and with one of them it just clicks

accidently hitting the other one with a snowball meant for their friend

getting stuck in an elevator together

sitting next to each other at their mutual friends’ wedding

waiting in line at the grocery check-out, rolling their eyes at each other because the person at the front is starting drama

going camping with their families with the entrances of their tents/camper van right across from each other, so they always see each other first in the morning and end up spending all their time together

meeting as the best friends/wingmen/chaperones of their two friends who want to go out together, but not alone

getting set up together by mutual friends

being extras in a movie and having lots of fun in the background

meeting in a cinema, both there with their friends, but sitting next to each other and accidently grabbing each other’s hand when something scary happens on screen

being from different schools, they meet at a tournament, trying to win for their own school

sitting next to each other on a long bus/train ride

meeting each other at a kissing booth

getting paired up at a dance class

accidently wearing a matching costume at a party

meeting at a party that both their parents dragged them to and they’re the only teens there

going for the same book at the library

it’s raining and they decide to share an umbrella

meeting on a cruise, seeing a lot of cool places together

dancing next to each other at a concert

interviewing the other one about their new project

mistaking the other for their friend and getting embarrassed when they turn around

helping the other for their missing cat

meeting at a public reading of their favourite author

getting paired up for a project

meeting at a model united nations conference, representing countries who definitely want to work together on a resolution draft

realizing they ordered the exact same drink when they both try to grab it at the same time

working their first shift together, their schedules never matching up before

using the washing machines next to each other at the laundromat

sitting next to each other on a bumpy plane ride

meeting at a fire alarm test, having to evacuate the building

getting shipped by their fans, but they’ve never met, so they finally meet up for their fans

moving into a new apartment and realizing they can see directly into their neighbor’s window

being panelists at a con and having heard about each other a lot but never met before

getting paired up for a partner game at a friend’s party

waiting in an airport for their delayed flight

meeting at a demonstration, where they quickly form a bond over their shared interest

getting summoned to the principal’s office for different things and both waiting for their verdict

sharing a taxi, because they need to go to the same place

asking the other one to take a picture of them and their friends

meeting in the cafeteria, with no other place left

getting tasked with training their newest colleague

being booked as models for a big campaign together

meeting at a holiday resort, both with friends or family tagging along

More: Meet Uglies

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[blushing-ghost-stories]

An Alphabetical List of Random Sentence Starters

“At least you tried. You failed miserably, and your children’s children will hear about it, but you tried.”

“But if you eat the rich, you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“Casper the Friendly Ghost did not die for this shit.”

“Dating is hard when you have no redeeming qualities.”

“Every time you open your mouth I want to throw a mini-marshmallow into it.”

“Forget about them. I think you’re pretty cool.”

“Grated parmesan gives me life.”

“How do you just ignore your conscience like that?”

“I forgot to bring my umbrella, so it’s definitely going to rain now.”

“John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt has once again become a victim of identity theft.”

“Keep an eye on this for me, would you?”

“Let the looting begin!” 

“Murder? Sounds like fun. Tell me more.”

“Never underestimate my ability to dance my way out of any situation.”

“Only god knows what I would do for a Klondike bar.”

“Pick up after yourself or I’ll put you in the dumpster instead.”

“Quit pretending that you’re okay.”

“Referring to yourself as the head bitch in charge does not, in fact, make you the head bitch in charge.”

“Slide to the left a little. Your big head is in the way.”

“Turn left here. No, your other left.”

“Unfortunately, we’ve run out of chocolate milk.”

“Violating tree law is kinda my thing.”

“Wow, I’ve never seen somebody get bitch slapped that hard in my life.”

"Xena, warrior princess, would never do this to me.”

“Your first mistake was giving me these scissors.”

“Zebras are just basic bitches.”

[blushing-ghost-stories]

&. 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝: 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  inspired from the pun book from the last of us, here are some dialogue prompts of various puns. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ for a fungi to grow you must give it as mushroom as possible. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter how much you push the envelope. it'll still be stationary. ❜

❛ what did the mermaid wear to her math class? an algae bra. ❜

❛ people are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow. ❜

❛ why did the scarecrow get an award? he was outstanding in his field. ❜

❛ what did the triangle say to the circle? you're so pointless. ❜

❛ a book just fell on my head, i only have my shelf to blame. ❜

❛ i tried to catch some fog earlier. i mist. ❜

❛ i stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. then it dawned on me. ❜

❛ diarrhea is hereditary... it runs in your genes. ❜

❛ what did the green grape say to the purple grape? breathe, you idiot! ❜

❛ i'm reading a book on anti-gravity, and it's impossible to put down. ❜

❛ what is a pirate's favorite letter? tis' the c. ❜

❛ i wasn’t originally going to get a brain transplant, but then i changed my mind. ❜

❛ what washes up on tiny beaches? microwaves. ❜

❛ why are frogs so happy? they eat whatever bugs them. ❜

❛ i don't trust trees. they're shady. ❜

❛ i was going to tell you a pizza joke, but it's too cheesy. ❜

❛ i want to be cremated as it is my last hope for a smoking hot body. ❜

❛ there’s a new type of broom out. it’s sweeping the nation. ❜

❛ did you hear about the man who lost his left side? he’s all right now. ❜

❛ what do you call a bee that can't make up its mind? a maybe. ❜

❛ i tried to make a belt out of watches. it was a waist of time. ❜

❛ i got fired from the calendar factory, just for taking a day off. ❜

❛ did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda? he was lucky it was a soft drink. ❜

❛ tequila may not fix your life but its worth a shot. ❜

❛ why are there fences around cemeteries? because people are dying to get in! ❜

❛ thanks for explaining the word 'many' to me, it means alot. ❜

❛ i once ate a watch. it was time consuming. ❜

❛ why are teddy bears never hungry? they are always stuffed! ❜

❛ i don’t trust stairs because they’re always up to something. ❜

❛ never trust an atom, they make up everything! ❜

❛ i couldn't figure out how to put my seatbelt on, but then it clicked. ❜

❛ how do construction workers party? they raise the roof. ❜

❛ what do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? a thesaurus. ❜

❛ when a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds. ❜

❛ i made a pun about the wind but it blows. ❜

❛ it's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs because they always take things literally. ❜

❛ what did the ocean say to the beach? nothing, it just waved. ❜

❛ i have a joke about chemistry, but i don't think it will get a reaction. ❜

❛ i'm on a seafood diet. i see food and i eat it. ❜

❛ why did the restaurant on the moon get bad reviews? it has no atmosphere.❜

❛ how do you organize a space party? you planet. ❜

❛ i once heard a joke about amnesia... but i forget how it goes. ❜

❛ the frustrated cannibal threw up his hands. ❜

❛ it takes guts to be an organ donor. ❜

❛ why is the mushroom always invited to parties? he's a fungi. ❜

❛ a guy walks into a bar... he was disqualified from the limbo contest. ❜

❛ jokes with punch lines can be painfully funny. ❜

❛ so what if i don’t know what apocalypse means? it’s not the end of the world! ❜

[blushing-ghost-stories]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

[blushing-ghost-stories]

&. 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  non - halloween  themed  dialogue  prompts  for  all  your  slashers,  final  girls,  and  other  horrors  beyond  your  comprehension.  trigger  warning  for  dark  themes.  feel  free  to  edit  as  you  seem  fit.  ) 

❛ it’s the silence that scares me. ❜

❛ i’m every nightmare you ever had. ❜

❛ i want to see your true face. ❜

❛ one way or another, you’re going to die tonight. ❜

❛ just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not already here. ❜

❛ by the time anyone finds your body, they won’t be able to identify it. ❜

❛ you’re playing a dangerous game here, girl. ❜

❛ i’m playing the villain, just like you wanted. ❜

❛ i won’t give up on you, i know you’re worth it! ❜

❛ scream all you want. no one will hear you. ❜

❛ what are you going to do to me? ❜

❛ there you are, my darling! ❜

❛ i knew you would come back to me. ❜

❛ don’t you want to be consumed by what loves you? ❜

❛ i’m going to send you back to hell where you came from! ❜

❛ you can’t keep me here forever! ❜

❛ how are you still alive? i killed you! ❜

❛ sometimes human spaces make inhuman monsters. ❜

❛ please. why don’t you just let me go? ❜

❛ this missing poster has your face on it. ❜

❛ that wasn’t so bad, was it? ❜

❛ what’s wrong, you don’t trust me? ❜

❛ i know a lot about you. more than you think. ❜

❛ you want me to shut him up for you? ❜

❛ we could have been beautiful together. ❜

❛ when you think you’re alone, someone watches. ❜

❛ rest while you can, because i will hunt you and eat you whole. ❜

❛ what you want is very wrong. ❜

❛ you look so pretty all tied up like this. ❜

❛ what, you like to watch? you goddamn sicko. ❜

❛ god isn’t here. god doesn’t even know about this place. ❜

❛ there is something at work in my soul which i do not understand. ❜

❛ i am the devil, and i am here to do the devil’s work. ❜

❛ you know what they say, an eye for an eye. ❜

❛ why don’t you scream for me? ❜

❛ are you… smelling me? ❜

❛ we’re going to die out here. ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of anything. not anymore. ❜

❛ we will be what everyone wants to be. perfect. ❜

❛ no offense, but i think you might be just a little too crazy for me. ❜

❛ we all go a little mad sometimes. ❜

❛ the harder i try to escape, the further i get into this awful place. ❜

❛ this was not how it was supposed to go! ❜

❛ this is the end of your little game. i win. ❜

❛ don’t leave me! i can’t be alone! ❜

❛ no one is coming for you. ❜

❛ you hide. and i’ll try to find you. sound fun? ❜

❛ fuck this place. seriously, just fuck this place. ❜

❛ what’s the matter, honey? you’ve barely touched your dinner. ❜

❛ don’t be afraid. dying is much easier than living. ❜

❛ i won’t let them kill you. i won’t let them even touch you. ❜

❛ let’s get you some clothes before i get too turned on. ❜

❛ you weren’t putting that tongue to use anyway. ❜

❛ shall i drink your blood fresh, or slice your neck and spill it out first? ❜

❛ dying keeps moving lower on the list of worst things that could happen to me. ❜

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Masterlist:

House of Wax

Bo x Reader - Flirting Gone Wrong (Hurt/Comfort) Bo, Vincent, and Lester - Halloween Headcanons (Fluff)

Dead By Daylight

nothing, yet...

Halloween

nothing, yet...

Scream

nothing, yet...

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

nothing, yet...

[blushing-ghost-stories]

Hello, I've decided to start up a horror / slasher themed writing blog.

Hi everyone, you can call me Amber, I’m 26 and this is an 18+ writing blog. Not everything I write will be n/sfw, but as I do plan on writing n/sfw and Dark Content, as well as interacting with such content, I would prefer there be no minors interacting with any of this blog’s posts. If I find minors following/interacting I will block them.

Currently I write for the following slashers/horror characters:

Bo Sinclair | Lester Sinclair | Vincent Sinclair | Michael Myers | Ghostface (DBD) | Ghostface (Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (seperate or together)) | Leatherface (Bubba Swayer) | Leatherface (Thomas Hewitt)

Just because someone isn't on the above list doesn't necessarily mean I won't write for them, I might just have forgotten them or need to watch whatever they are in. When in doubt, ask, I can't promise I'll write every character/suggestion I get, but I'll certainly try.

I write for female readers, this is because I am female and don’t know if I would write well for male readers, I can write gender neutral for some suggestions.