#Bo Sinclair x Reader Drabble

[slashingdisneypasta]

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You're nothing but sweet to Bo, and he's so damn mean! When you offer to wash him, its no different.

... "Come on, Bo. You're filthy." ... "Shower's nice and warm, Bo, come on. Don't be grumpy, please?" ... "Just relax, Bo,.. "

Warnings: Smut. Shower sex and Degradation. Age difference relationship (Mean older man (36 y/o) / Soft younger AFAB person (Early 20's)). A tiny little bit of daddy kink, and a creampie. Wrap it before you tap it folks, don't be like Bo. (Unedited)

When Bo finally gave in and joined you in the shower, chucking his hat off and to the corner of the bathroom last and giving a simultaneous frustrated sigh as he slides into the small little cubicle with you, you give a pleased grin. So he's not in that terrible a mood, then. If he was, he never would've listened to you.

"Y'better start washin' the fucken day off me, honey, or I'm kickin your ass outta here."

Your jaw drops, the sponge in your hand two inches away from Bo's chest. "Wh- I started this shower!! I- I was here first!" You sound immature, you know it, but its totally warranted! Pouting, you squeeze the sponge so all the soapy water drenches your hand. He could be so charismatic, but never for you!...

"Yeah, and I'm gonna end it if you don't get to work." There's a ghost of a smirk on his handsome face, now, watching you get all sulky in front of him- and all covered in soap suds and running water, too. It was definitely cheering him up after the day he had. "What? You gonna get all huffy now, darlin'? Y'asked for me to come in here."

"Why are you always so mean to me... I'm always nice to you!"

"Awww, was I mean?... " The smirk is real, now, as Bo backs you up against the tile wall. When the cold hits your skin you jolt and gasp; leaning in towards Bo's warmth, instead.

Still, you cross your arms and look away from him. "Yes. And you're always so nice to visitors, before you kill them I mean, and I- "

Here he chuckles, shaking his head. "You're so fucken dumb, doll, jesus christ."

"Hey!- "

When Bo's lips crash into yours, wet and tasting of water, you let out a quick gasp- but calm down immediately at the taste of his tongue in your mouth. Dropping the sponge in your fist, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck; pressing your naked bodies together. This time when he pushes you against the wall, you're so warm and content against him, connected to him, that you don't even wince.

Immediately your pussy is throbbing, soaking wet and aching to be filled up with his cock. That always happens when Bo takes control of you like this- you hate it, you think it betrays you, but what can you do?? Its so hot. Moaning, you turn your nose to the other side of Bo's, adjusting the kiss and letting him deepen it by sucking on your tongue. The hot water from the shower beats down his back, drips off the tips of your fingers, and slides down your thighs.

His hands find your thighs and wrap them around his waist, grinding his half-hard cock against your lovely, slick, plush pussy with a growl. He separates from your poor swollen lips and flashes you a devastating smirk. "You ready for me, little baby?"

Slow on the uptake, head full of steam and Bo, you give another little pout at his words. "I'm not a baby- "

"Yeah you are." With his cock fully hard now, thick and standing tall against his belly, he slips in just half; watching you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out. "Hey hey hey, hold on there- " He gets in close to your face, tut tut tut-ing, the feel of his hot breath a little extra in the hot steamy shower. "Don't do that, princess~ Dontcha think Daddy wants to hear every little thing he's doin' to you?" You just look mortified back at him, your hand still over your mouth. Daddy?!? "It'd cheer me up, for sure."

... oh, you think, eyes widening. Well- if it would make Bo happy, then- "O- okay... "

Slowly you take your hand away from your lips, watching Bo's eyes flicker down to your mouth and the little lecherous smirk spread across his. "There you go... "

Then he thrusts all the way into you, filling you up so entirely and riding against your clit your eyes slip up into the back of your head; your skull falling back and thudding gently against the tile wall behind you. "Booo... "

"Heheh, thats right, sweetheart, fuck you're so fucken tight- "

Bo's words race right through you as he pounds your little cunt with his admittedly impressive dick, stroking the tight ball inside you developing into a perfect delicious orgasm. You hold on the best you can though, you try so hard to stay together, you don't wanna cum too fast!, you want this to last-

Your pussy squeezes Bo like a vice as he pummels your clit, the hot shower water coating you both adding a layer of pleasure thats so new and so good. "Bo Bo Bo- "

"I know, sweet thing, I kn- fuck!- " When you squeeze around him hearing him call you 'sweet thing', he cant stand it. He squeezes your hips so tight he'll definitely leave fingertip-shaped bruises behind and presses his full cock deep into you so his pelvis pins yours against the wall.

A hot, fulfilled feeling explodes in your cunt and you let out a guttural moan, rolling your hips against him, riding out both your orgasms.

~

" ... huh, well I guess y'are useful for somethin', huh, baby doll?" Bo tells you a few minutes later, still holding your tired, sleepy form up against the shower wall; keeping you close as long as possible while you're all sweet and tired like this. His foreheads leaning against yours and his hand's on the side of your head, stroking your face lovingly with his thumb.

Your eyes are closed, half-drifting off. " ... sh- shut up... fuck you... asshole... "

Bo gives a grin. "Fuck you too, sweetheart."

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers' as fathers with a child/reader. (Comfort drabbles for anyone like me who has daddy issues).

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

I'm a little embarrassed that I made this but I can't deny that it does comfort me and make me feel better. If it makes you happy as well, then I'm glad. Thank you for reading. I hope you have a nice day.

...

Freddy

He was sleeping in his bed when he felt something nudge his arm, the soft callings of your voice quickly rousing him from his slumber. "Daddy? Daddy, please wake up."

Paternal instincts demanding that he instantly wake to check and see if you were okay, Freddy sat up and opened his eyes. Immediately the sight of you standing beside the bed in your pajamas with a sad, frightened look on your face greeted him, and he reached out to gently brush a hand through your messy hair.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Is everything okay?" He asked, gazing around for potential danger.

You whimpered, your little hands anxiously fiddling together as you say sadly, "I... I had a nightmare and I... I got scared."

Relaxing a bit, Freddy sat up all the way in bed and lifted his arms out towards you, "Oh sweetie, come here."

Stepping forward and lifting your arms, you whimper whenever your dad pulled you sideways onto his lap and held you close. He kissed the top of your head and gently patted your back. "Thought I told you not to be having those?" He mumbled.

"I know, but... It was so scary and I-I didn't like it," You whined, burying yourself into the divine safety of his chest, his scent familiar and comforting.

"Shh, shh," Freddy rubbed soothing circles against your back while hugging you securely against him, always prepared to fight all of your demons away- even if your demons were as simple as nightmares. "It's okay, sweetie. You're alright. Daddy's got ya. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Ok..." You whisper, still snuggled against him. He was so comforting and safe. "Daddy? I'm thirsty. Will you get me some juice, please?"

"You want juice?" Freddy tickled your nose causing you to giggle, "Hm?"

"And a story?" You smile at him hopefully.

"And a story? Well, aren't you spoiled," Freddy smiled back and leaned down to nuzzle your forehead, "Sure, sweetie, let's get you some juice."

Grinning at his compliance, you lean forward and give him a big hug. He hugs you back, and it feels so nice and comforting that you feel as if you could go to sleep right then and there.

Freddy holds your hand as he takes you to the kitchen to get you some juice. Then he grabs a book from a shelf and sits down in his arm chair with you sitting in his lap with your blanket and juice in clutch. He reads to you the short story as many times as you want until you've finished your beverage and declared that you were tired again.

"Can I sleep with you, daddy? Please," You ask, fidgeting in the hopes that you wouldn't have to sleep in the dark alone by yourself again tonight.

Freddy doesn't have the heart to tell you "no", so he nods and ruffles your hair, "As long as you promise not to have anymore nightmares. Promise?"

"I promise, daddy," You say happily, crawling into bed with him and immediately going to snuggle into his chest, "I love you."

Freddy kisses your head and tucks you both in with a blanket, one arm wrapping around you to hold you against him. Warm, safe, and comfortable. "Love you too, sweetie. Now get some sleep and, this time, have 'good' dreams."

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

"Hey Les, you seen (y/n) around?" Bo asked as he approached Lester's truck.

Lester gave him a look that he came to dread. "Yeah, they're on back with Vincent. Why?"

Relieved by your assured safety, Bo placed his hands on his hips and stared hard at the ground. Guilt chewed on him like a hungry wolf, and shame became a permanent dark cloud hanging all around him. "I-I messed up, Les," He admitted, shaking his head.

Lester raised his eyebrows in suspicion, "What'a ya mean?"

"Yesterday, I... I messed up," Bo huffed, dragging a rough hand through his hair, "An' now they ain't talkin' to me, and I... I just... Uh."

"Oh, so that's why the little critter wanted to spend the night," Lester chuckled and petted his dog's head fondly, "An' here I was hopin' I was the new favorite uncle. Guess I ain't, huh?"

Bo ignored him as he thought about what happened yesterday. He had been angry for reasons unrelated to you, and when you had tried to get his attention he snapped and yelled at you. Even though "what" was all he yelled, he could still tell how much he scared you and hurt your feelings. Now you wouldn't go around him. Gosh, he didn't mean to do it, he just... He was just an idiot.

Lester frowned at him as if noticing his distress, "Well hell, if it's botherin' ya to the pits then why don't ya go talk to them? You are their daddy after all, ain't ya?"

Yes. Yes he was your dad. And no child should ever have to be afraid of their dad.

Making his ultimate decision, Bo adjusted his hat and began stomping away, "Gotta go."

He found you in the house eating snacks with Vincent. When you noticed he was there, you looked at him and then quickly bowed your head like... like you were afraid of him. And it broke Bo's heart. Good grief, what had he done?

Pulsing with regret, guilt and shame, Bo slowly approached you and knelt down beside your chair, "Hey there, little critter bug. What'cha eating?"

You were hesitant, keeping your face averted as you timidly mumble, "Grapes."

"Ooh, yummy, can I have some?" He lifted his hands out, uncertain of where and when he should start explaining himself.

Sadness and uncertainty decorated your face as you lifted out the bowl to him. Vincent seemed to understand what his brother was doing, and he stood up to leave and give you some privacy.

As he ate some grapes, Bo was surprised to hear you quietly ask, "Daddy... Are... Are you still mad at me?"

"Oh..." He straightened his posture, set the bowl aside and reached out to gently grasp your shoulder, "Oh, (y/n), I was never mad at ya, I just... I was just havin' a bad day and I..."

Bo sighed, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently in reassurance, "Look, critter bug, I didn't mean to yell at ya, and I definitely ain't mad at ya. I just... Daddy made a mistake, and I'm so, so sorry, (y/n). I promise... I'll never yell at you again. I promise."

Your eyes glistened as you looked at him as if in debate. Bo's throat was dry as he waited for your reaction, the negativity and guilt nearly driving him insane.

Instead of saying anything, you spread your arms and lift them upwards. Bo sighed quietly in relief and went to scoop you into his arms, his aching chest slowly beginning to calm down. He still felt guilty for how he made you feel, and he wasn't lying when he promised that he would never ever make you feel that way again.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

You were both trick-or-treating and having a good evening on Halloween. Michael alternated between carrying you on his back, on his hip, or simply holding your hand while walking. It warmed his heart to see how happy and excited you were, your candy-bag becoming overloaded with sweet treats.

He decided to stop at Lauries for a quick break and some refreshment. You ran back out while he was still inside. It only felt like a minute before he followed your footsteps and soon came to a scene that made his blood boil and his eyes widen.

You were laying on your back against the sidewalk, small, frightened cries spilling from your lips. In the direction you were staring, Michael caught a glimpse of a group of teenagers quickly running away. They must have done something to you. But what?

"D-daddy," You cried as he quickly walked over to you, and you skittered to get to your feet.

Michael barely got to check you over for damage before you were wrapping your arms around his waist and crying into his belly. "They pushed me and stole my candy," You whined loudly against him, "I-I just wanted to be friends, b-b-but they stole my candy. Ehh, daddy, daddy, what do I do? They stole my candy."

Anger invaded every nerve within Michael's body as he held you close protectively. How dare anyone treat you this way. How could they? You were the nicest, sweetest little angel. What was their problem? Michael's eyes burned with the memory of those teenage scum and the direction they fled.

Hearing your loud sniffles, Michael gently coaxed you back and knelt down. Slipping off his mask, he reached out, cupped your cheek and used his jumpsuit sleeve to wipe away your tears and snot. Then he used sign-language to ask if you were okay.

You nodded and cried in great sadness, "But they stole my candy. Wh-why did they do that, daddy? I-I just wanted to be friends."

Michael quickly explained to you how those teenagers were obviously bullies. This same experience happened to him too when he was your age. Everything was going to be alright. They would get you more candy. Calm down. Everything was going to be alright.

Slowly you began to calm down, your sobs and whines diminishing. Michael pulled you into his arms and hauled you against his hip so that he could take you into the house. You stayed attached to him the whole time, and he refused to let you go. Frustration still burned inside him, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to protect and comfort you/his child.

Laurie was there to save the day, thankfully, offering you all of the candy she hadn't yet given out and putting on a fun movie for you to watch.

You were snuggled up against your dad on the couch, your mood significantly eased as he rubbed your head and back and offered you pieces of candy. For the most part you forgot about the incident, but Michael certainly hadn't.

Let's just say that, by tomorrow, you would have your stolen candy back.

Hannibal

He had taken a leave of absence from work so that he could better take care of you while you were sick. It wasn't anything serious; just a small cold. The nurse from your school had sent you home earlier due to a sore throat and a fever. Hannibal had rushed to get you as quickly as he could.

Once he got you home, he had you take a bath and get dressed into your pajamas. You complained of throat and stomach pain, and you had irritated sinuses. He gave you some medication and told you to lie down while he made you some special soup that would soothe your tummy.

As he was cooking, he heard your tiny footsteps echoing from the hallway, and he turned to see your sleepy figure approaching, "Daddy?"

"Yes, my child, what is it?" He asked, setting his cutting knife aside.

"My tummy hurts so bad," You pouted, your voice beginning to sound scratchy, "And I don't feel good. I wanna be with you."

Hannibal grabbed a kleenex from the counter and knelt down to gently clean your messy nose, "I know. And that is precisely why you should be sleeping."

"But I can't sleep," You whimper, looking at him with sad, tired owl eyes, "I wanna be with you. Please, daddy? Let me stay with you."

Hannibal tilted his head at you, his brows lifting in debate. While he would rather you be getting some decent rest, he knew that you were young and still filled with energy even whilst you were sick. He didn't have much left to do cooking wise either, so he figured that having you stay around wouldn't harm anything.

"Alright then," Hannibal leaned forward and picked you up, swiftly positioning you on his hip and supporting you with one arm so that he could use the other to cook with.

You held onto his neck while resting your head against his shoulder, your eyes mostly shut as you listened to the sound of his heart beat. Safety and warmth enveloped you making you feel much, much better than what you had before. Your dad was always so cozy and comforting.

Hannibal was able to finish cooking dinner with you on his hip the entire time. Once it was time to eat, he set you down on a chair and made you a drink and a bowl of soup. You ate quietly which worried him a little, but he knew it was just because you weren't feeling good.

"Feeling better?" He asked when you were finished.

You smiled and nodded at him, "Mhm, it was real yummy. Thank you, daddy."

"You're welcome, my child," He reached out and gently squeezed your cheek before taking your bowl and cleaning it, "I don't suppose telling you to get back in bed will do any good, will it?"

Your pitiful whimper was enough of an answer. Hannibal chuckled, dried his hands and went to pick you up again, holding you close as he carried you to the living room. "A movie it is then."

"Can Will come over?" You asked, grinning.

Hannibal gave you a look, "I'm beginning to believe that you're not sick at all."

...

All good fathers' should fight their child's nightmares away, not be the reason why they have them.

[calmcoldevening]

Why did they want to keep you with them? (slashers x reader)

TW! Mention of rape and abuse

Michael Myers

• Michael came to your house to kill you.

• He was prevented by one scene: you were crying and screaming, trying to escape from the grip of your "boyfriend", who forcibly undressed you. Disgusting attempted rape.

• Michael lay low, watching you for a while, watching your pleas and futile attempts to escape. Your gaze reflected the pain of betrayal. This was different from what Myers saw in the eyes of his victims during the murders.

• You reminded him of his mother. Michael grew up around women, and he saw how his mother often cried at night after a particularly hard shift at "work". And although he didn't feel anything towards you at that moment, he understood that it was wrong.

• In place of you and this guy, Michael saw Deborah and Ronnie. And he couldn't stand this sofa imbecile. Such a vile, cruel and disgusting person is not worthy of life, right?

• When he was done with the guy, Myers came up to you and squatted down. You, clearly still on the verge of hysteria and loss of consciousness, clung to his shoulders, burying your face in a blue jumpsuit. Michael didn't know how to react, he didn't feel anything, but something inside was telling him to comfort.

• The voices behaved strangely. At any other time they would have said kill, but not now. And only the mother's voice stood out among this gray series of sounds: "Calm her, Michael."

Bubba Sawyer

• That day you were traveling with Sally, her brother and friends. You've been pretty distant. You were always stressed out by such noisy companies, but Pam begged you, as one of her best friends, to go with them.

• When a strange hitchhiker jumps into your van, you are attracted to his behavior. Why is he so jumpy? Sick in the head? Perhaps. Your fears are confirmed when he snatches a knife from Franklin and cuts open his hand. You look at his distraught face and run up to him, thinking how to stop the blood faster. After walking in for a while, you grab your backpack and take out bandages and some ointments that you bought earlier at the nearest pharmacy. As carefully as possible, you rub his palm and wrap a clean bandage on top. Nubbins, as you will find out later, looks at you with shock and incomprehension.

• When you become one of the Sawyers' victims, it becomes a choice who they want to put at the table as a guest during a dinner party. The choice falls on you and Sally.

• Nubbins immediately recognizes you and begins to actively tell his brothers something. Did you help Nubbins? Bubba is impressed. You didn't offend his brother, but on the contrary, you showed sympathy!

• Bubba is heading towards you (you and Sally are sitting on the infamous bone sofa). He touches your cheek with his thick finger, and you smile nervously. You're ready to cry from fear right now; your lips are trembling, but no tears are flowing. Bubba repeats his action, this time stroking your chin. He smacks his lips strangely from time to time; you can see his crooked teeth.

• To be honest, Nubbins and Drayton never understood why their brother left you, but he continued to be adamant, carefully taking you to his room. He untied your limbs only in the late afternoon, when he was sure he could keep an eye on you.

Vincent Sinclair

• You came to Ambrose and decided to go to the store for a snack. Bo immediately called out to you and offered to go to his house. The boy is cute, smiling — why not?

• When you entered the Sinclair house, you immediately realized that the guy, or guys, it seems he had brothers, had not had proper care and care for a long time: all the rooms were dusty, and the kitchen was littered with dirty dishes and empty boxes of instant food.

• Without thinking twice, you decided to first clear the space a little, and then concoct something in a hurry. In the end, Bo gave it the go-ahead.

• While you are washing the dishes, a strong blow is heard upstairs, and then Bo's angry screams. You hurriedly wipe your hands and almost run to the second floor. Slowly approaching the right room, you hear Bo's furious voice. "Fuck, couldn't you've been more careful, huh? Now she's definitely gonna run away, damn it. And all because of you, bastard!". Then there was a thud.

• You run into the room and see Bo towering over a long-haired guy. He fell on his ass and pressed his hands to his face. You rush to him and help him up. "Are you okay? What was that? Does anything hurt?" you shower the man with questions and only now notice that his face is wearing a mask.

• "Get away from him. And you, freak, move it. You don't want to get another slap in the face, do you?". You frown and stand in front of the guy, blocking him from Bo. You let the long-haired one lean on your shoulder. "Don't yell at him. Can't you see that he's sick?".

• The only thing Vincent can think about at this moment is how you protect him, not afraid to raise your voice to Bo, and what kind of affectionate and warm hands you have. You gently hold him by his broad back, and even through the mask he feels a pleasant scent of perfume. Maybe I shouldn't kill you?

Bo Sinclair

• You arrived in Ambrose with your friends. Although, they could hardly be called that. They were extremely toxic and called you names all the time.

• Your car needed an inspection: while driving, something was knocking violently under the hood, so when one of the guys talked to Lester, you drove into town.

• This place seemed nice enough to you, even though it looked a little creepy and abandoned.

• When Bo was talking to a guy from your company who was driving a car, he saw a young man yelling at you and sometimes swinging. Bo frowned, but did not show his mood change to others. "Why doesn't the girl go to our local "House of Wax"? This place will really make you want to stay" Bo joked, pointing towards a hill near the city. You went in the indicated direction with a clear desire to distract yourself from these vile people, leaving your pseudo-friends in the care of Bo.

• A little later you will discover that all your companions have mysteriously "left", leaving you in this city all alone to fend for yourself.

• Bo will calm you down and try in every possible way to show that you can trust him (what's there, you cried into his vest, and he gently stroked you on the back). The man was grinning.

• In fact, he just saw himself in you at that moment. He remembered how his parents treated him brutally, chained him to a chair with stones and constantly set an example for his younger brother. Something about you, so shrinking and scared, seemed to him exciting and interesting. Perhaps he found in your eyes the same feelings that he experienced in his life, there was something familiar about you, even native, that made him want to protect you and fence you off from these terrible people.

Well i love them too much hah. I wrote this with my ex-girlfriend a long time ago, so I was not sure if it was worth posting. But what's done is done. These boys are too cute for me not to write this one. So have a good day :)

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ beautiful (darling) ❞

slashers dating drabble | transmasc!reader | comfort/fluff | graphic description of violence | mentions/implied transphobia (minor) | minor mention of SH in Amanda Y.'s section

Amanda Young | Brahms Heelshire | Corey Cunningham | OG!Michael Myers | RZ!Michael Myers | poly!Ghostface (Stu Macher, Billy Loomis) | Sinclair brothers

Amanda Young (Saw) —

She would do anything to ensure that you are happy and healthy.

Even if it means she has to stare you down with her arms crossed and her brow arched as you meekly confess that you'd forgotten to fulfil your daily needs.

Your girlfriend knows how damaging it is to be looked at with disgust by close-minded individuals - as an ex-addict and ex-convict she knows how dark your mind can become when the world seemingly turns its back on you. She may not understand the struggle you face as a trans person but she is SO proud of you for having made it this far.

If you deny these words of admiration, she will cup your face and repeat them.

Resist more and she will whisper praises on your skin as she trails kisses anywhere she can. She loves you, she will not give you room to degrade the person she loves.

Oh! Amanda adores wearing matching pieces with you. She's not interested in full-on "couple outfits" (if you beg, maybe she'll relent...maybe) but matching earrings, necklaces, rings? She loves it. It soothes her possessive side.

Speaking of her possessiveness, she's not a jealous person...at least that is what she tells herself.

Amanda won't ever turn her anger on you when someone shows interest in you, she knows it isn't your fault that someone doesn't understand what "taken" means.

However, this does little to stop her from placing her chin on your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck as she regards the "threat" with an unimpressed look.

"Whose this, baby?" "Oh, this is-" she gasps and you look as she points out something in the distance. "Look at that! Come on, looks fun!"

Please reassure her though, she acts tough but she is just a person underneath all that bloodshed.

Your girlfriend loves to embrace you, Little Spoon or Big Spoon matters not.

All-in-all, she is unapologetically touching you any chance she gets.

If someone is an asshole to you, you frankly start worrying about what dirt Amanda is going to find out about them and use against them in their game. You don't need to worry about her sketching new torture devices, disappearing in the middle of the night, or that suspicious duffel bag she comes back with that makes a loud CLANK! sound when she places it on the floor. No, really, don't worry.

When you see the asshole's face and name appear on the news because of their gruesome death, you simply continue to channel surf while Amanda chews on her lower lip, tucked under your arm and looking so smug.

If your cologne starts running out faster you look to your girlfriend - she quite literally smells like the evidence but she will deny, deny, deny.

Self-defense lessons. No questions asked, no rebuttal or refute. She will be more at peace knowing you can protect yourself.

If you decide to help her by "participating" in a game with other people, her eyes will be glued to the camera feed. She is pacing as thousands of "what if's" run through her mind. They dissipate as you turn your head to a hidden camera and smile at her before you continue your performance of distress and anxiety. She falls deeper in love with you (expect the most passionate kiss of your life - no, she won't care if you're covered in blood).

[CHEST BINDING] Amanda reminds you to take a break, and stretch your back and even offers to massage you. She will splurge on a better-quality binder when yours starts looking worse for wear.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES, ADDICTION implied] She won't be present while you administer the shot, she will prepare band-aids, praises and kisses once you're done.

[SELF-HARM mentioned] If you struggle with self-harm, she won't start asking "how's" or "why's". Unlike her mentor, she knows how tough this can be, she won't punish or mock you for it. She will help you through it, every step of the way.

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) —

This boy is more perceptive than most give him credit for.

"(Y/N), feeling more darling today?" "...Yeah, wait, how'd you-"

He categorizes sliding around the gender spectrum as "pretty" (fem), "darling" (gn), and "handsome" (masc). You usually don't even have to tell him about how you're presenting/feeling today, he gets it right.

Your boyfriend is a brat but he isn't a useless brat. Contrary to popular belief, he can cook (snacks) and take care of himself just fine. He just leans on you more because...he's a brat.

This is hyper-specific, but Brahms knows how frustrating it feels to look into a mirror and see someone that isn't...you.

So he makes you a mask. It's how he copes and he figured it could help you too. If you like them he'd be more than happy to make you more.

Arts and craft master! Did you see his room? He probably kept himself busy with all sorts of hobbies, so he definitely enjoys handmaking your gifts.

Oh, how he loves to be held by you. He enjoys being enveloped completely, it makes him feel so small and safe.

Loves everything about you. Your voice makes the thoughts in his head quiet to a whisper - the power you have on this man.

So he does not understand why some people are abhorrent when they talk to you.

Yes, the two of you are more or less left alone in the Heelshire Manor/estate. Malcolm occasionally drops by with groceries only to scurry off after some mild-mannered conversation because he doesn't want the ghost of a child to chase him off. But, there's only so much you can do to maintain such a grand building and its surrounding land.

So, you have to call some help once in a while to uphold the maintenance. Most of the time, the local hire are sweet, they enjoy helping you since they're usually served cold drinks and snacks after. The handful of assholes, however, are...assholes.

Brahms seethes as he grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches, you glance at the wall he hides behind as you faintly hear his breathing but just got the interaction over and done with.

Unlike the other slashers in this list, he is at the most disadvantage when it comes to enacting justice but by god, he will try. For you? He'd do anything.

You let out a noise of confusion when Brahms murmurs about you going to the local art supply shop to get him something. "You want me to go to town?" he nods, his curls tickling your neck and shoulder. As you attempt to turn to face him, Brahms lets out a whine - high and pouty. "I've been good!" you sigh, patting his arm that was around your waist. "Alright, Brahmsy, alright".

Unbeknownst to you, Brahms had messaged the transphobic asshole whilst pretending to be you and told them something had happened to whatever it was they worked on while they were here. He'd given you an alibi, people saw you in town after all so he was prepared to have a "talk" with the repairman.

He also does not worry much about you going to the art supply shop as the woman who owns it is a kind old lady whom he sometimes makes you send his crafts - under the guise that you made them, of course.

You returned home with new art supplies in your hand, at ease and humming from the pleasant walk from the gates to the manor.

Brahms stands over a dead body on the back patio, his mask covered in blood splatters as he held an antique ashtray in his hand.

"(Y/N)!" he cheers, walking over the man's barely-there skull before he embraces you.

He'd kill for you but the mess is yours to clean. Your boyfriend isn't perfect.

He'll make you something sweet to drink while you hose down the gore, does that help? Okay, okay, fine, he'll bury the body too.

[CHEST BINDING] He knows when your body has had enough. No, he does not know the appropriate time frame you are supposed to have whilst wearing a binder - he just knows your body so well he knows when it's done for the day. He'll run you a hot bath to help your muscles relax.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES, BURN SCARS] His arts and crafts hobbies practically made him have surgeon's hands. So if you need him to, he'll administer the shot and it won't hurt, just a pinch he promises. As someone who had to go through a few medical procedures due to his burns, he stays by your side when you have to go through anything remotely medical. By the way, despite how hard it is to get testosterone when you live in the middle of nowhere, don't worry, the Heelshire funds will last Brahms and you ten lifetimes. Enjoy it, it's all for you.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) —

Corey "Babe, wear my jacket you'll look so handsome" Cunningham.

Oh, how this man dotes over you.

If you open his Notes app, you'll find an entire folder dedicated to you. Inside, your boyfriend has written down every date idea you confessed to wanting (even the TikTok links you'd sent regarding the topic), your favourite and least favourite food (your allergies are bolded and if you're on medication, that is also listed) and other things you weren't even aware he remembered much less keep note off.

It's okay if he doesn't wear a helmet but please wear yours.

Loves, loves, loves going on motorcycle rides with you. Your weight pressed against his, your laughter ringing in his ears, the wind in his hair, your arms wrapped around him, the scenery blurring past - he feels like the two of you are young gods. Eternal and immortal, just like his love for you.

Star-gazing dates! Climbing on rooftops of abandoned buildings to have private moments where you both feel like the only people in the world!

He would have been considered a "Golden Retriever" boyfriend but after his character development, he has turned into a "German Shepherd" boyfriend.

Honestly, he'd love to see anyone try to disrespect you. Their words fizzle out on their tongues when he stands behind you with his eyes so dark they resembled mirrors - just dark pools that only reflect the sorry cunt's expression back at them. They didn't know it just yet but they had just signed their death warrants.

Speaking of his eyes - please remind him to keep eye lubricant on him all the time. He stares at people like an owl, they dry out. Doesn't help that he rides his motorcycle without a helmet. Oh! And pretty please remind him to actually keep track of when he needs to buy new contact lenses, he somehow always disregards his eye health. You're basically the only thing keeping them alive - his optician thanks you.

If you tell him you like the way his jacket looks, how the rings on his fingers give you "gender envy", how good his cologne smells, how his jeans cutting makes him look more masculine - baby, just take it.

Referring to the first point - but yeah, dude, just wear his things if you want, he loves it. If you're not his size, then you best be ready to have him buy and alter things for you.

"You'd look cute wearing my work uniform" You pause from whatever it is you're doing and look at your boyfriend as he works on his motorcycle in your garage, "o...kay...?"

Maybe he just has a thing for you wearing his things...

His bloodlust fluctuates, sometimes he's feeling particularly bloodthirsty and sometimes not so much. What is constant though is the gifts he brings back. Does it count as trophies? Robbery? No idea! But the way your eyes light up when he gives you something makes his heart race.

[CHEST BINDING] This man did his research. He keeps an eye on your breathing when you're wearing a binder, gently reminding you to make sure you did so safely.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] He holds you and will even offer to administer it. He talks while he does so - just to keep your mind off the needle and he places a kiss over your band-aid every time.

Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) —

As predicted, he stares. Sorry, not sorry. That's just how he communicates, through vibes.

In all seriousness though, Michael does "speak" but it's limited to how his eyes narrow, surprisingly sassy eye-rolls, infamous head tilts, sighs, grunts, growls and occasionally...a huff of laughter.

If you attempt to teach him how to sign, he will pick and choose when to use it but your boyfriend keeps himself easy to read for your sake.

Stalking is his love language. Do not attempt to spot him when he doesn't want to be spotted because you won't. He secretly enjoys seeing you pout when you try though, you look so determined.

Your boyfriend won't negotiate on moving so you're going to have to renovate and fix up his childhood home to make it livable- this will be hard as Michael will be hiding in the basement but thankfully, whoever he did kill he managed to make it look like an accident. It made the whole process take longer than it was supposed to though, you sulked by sleeping at a motel and vehemently locking the windows and doors.

He appreciates you, just shows it quietly. The Shape makes sure your windows are locked, doors too, don't want any sickos breaking in. That's his job.

He'll hunt for you too. You coaxed him to stop killing rats to eat them and kudos to you he doesn't eat them anymore. Rats are just as scared of him as most of Haddonfield. If you don't know how to skin and prepare an animal carcass...well, you better start learning.

Oh, by the way, nobody messes with you. Not even the most insufferable, limp-dicked, conservative in Haddonfield and he annoys everyone! But nah, he's tight-lipped when it comes to you.

Everyone who had ever been rude to you...well...they pop up a few weeks later in various states of fucked up.

Your boyfriend does not understand gender conformity, at all. You will catch him wearing a sleeping kaftan around the house, completely at ease with himself. If you paint his nails, he doesn't fuss about the colour. If you decide to dress more feminine one day he'll just look at you and hum in approval - the same reaction if you dress more masculine.

The guy is called The Shape of Haddonfield, truly a frightening but surprisingly gender-neutral title.

So, do not fret, if anybody dares say anything they will rue the day they were born.

[CHEST BINDING] Ah, he makes it known when you've had enough. Michael will simply stand in front of you and point to his chest, a prompt for you to tell him what time you wore it. Then, he'll just stand and stare until you make a move to take it off. Yes, he has scared the shit out of you by popping out of nowhere whilst you were doing chores outside the house - no, he denies ever huffing a breath of amusement (a laugh in Michael's vocabulary) when you blurb out random exclamations and drop whatever it is you were holding.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] He won't administer it. Michael doesn't even like to imagine stabbing you so why would he? So what if it's a needle, he simply refuses to do so. He will instead offer support by placing a hand on your shoulder or knee and if he somehow lost track of time while he was out, he'll return with your favourite snacks (he steals them obviously).

Michael Myers (2007 - 2009) —

Staring but with more...feeling.

Mainly non-verbal but makes communicating easier by signing to you and occasionally whispering.

He is an open book to you in general though so you honestly have no idea why people find him so scary.

Yeah, you have a biased view but how could you not be when your boyfriend showers you with love any chance he gets.

Another arts and crafts lover, his face warms up when you gift him art supplies despite being "expressionless".

He isn't much of a fan of being touched anywhere near his neck or wrists so be wary of that. When he's about to touch you he makes it known by hovering his hand over you. You will need to reassure him he doesn't need to ask for permission every time but he does it anyways.

Aware of his size and strength, finds himself pleased with it despite how hard it is to stalk because he can keep you safe.

Oh, anyone with a shrimp-sized brain is going to have a rough night if they decide to be a dick to you. He will snap their spine over his knee and watch them try to crawl away like the pathetic worm they are.

Your boyfriend is willing to move away from his home once his vengeance is fulfilled.

Roadtrip? Roadtrip!

He is a homebody, if you believe it or not. Michael decorates your home with his artwork and has a good eye for aesthetics.

He wants to dress his beautiful lover (you) if you give him the chance.

Like OG!Michael, he doesn't completely understand why people take gender roles so seriously. Seriously, he can't wrap his mind around it. He honestly finds it all toxic - considering his parents and his sister's shitty boyfriends...why wouldn't he?

He wants you to play with his hair, please play with his hair. He will pass out the minute you do. Big on cuddles, being a Little Spoon is a state of mind not size so please Big Spoon him.

Another stalker, let's just conclude that any variation of Michael Myers just do it because they can. He likes keeping tabs on you is all. When you're working, he tries to keep busy but he just misses you...so don't mind him if you notice him in your peripheral vision whilst working.

[CHEST BINDING] He is good at counting down the minutes in his head. It happens when you're stuck in a mental institution and spend it in partial isolation. So, when he spots you putting on a binder for the day, he starts counting down. Yes, it is accurate and yes, he would prefer if you did take it off once he finishes his countdown - you could seriously hurt your body!

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] Curls up behind you, stroking the upper parts of your thighs as he watches you set everything up. He begins humming as you prepare the needle which makes you smile every time.

Billy Looomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) —

Oh boy, it's never a dull day with these two as your boyfriends.

"Black Cat" boyfriend, Billy Loomis and "Doberman" boyfriend, Stu Macher.

Will not elaborate...defeats the purpose of this entire thing if I don't though so fine -

Billy is calm, not calmer than Stu because that's actually quite an easy category to best him in. Billy is calm. He keeps the balance of your relationship. But he is a menace himself.

He stalks and slithers into your room when he pleases, holds you against him when he feels like it - which, by the way, does not mean he'll be mean if you lean against him or touch him, he just won't reciprocate but it is still welcomed. He also has a habit of pushing against your palm when you run your fingers through his hair or stroke his face. See? Black Cat boyfriend.

If you catch him in a bad mood, he can be snarky but Stu came up with the idea of ending every "bitch fight" with an "I love you". It helped a lot.

Your Doberman boyfriend holds you any chance he gets. It's one of the only ways he keeps still. Billy and you have to pin him down between the two of you to have a peaceful cuddle.

Stu is also much more protective/possessive than the two of you combine. His lovers are his alone. He will smile all teeth and gums and make people feel at ease but Stu is one scary man when he notices someone taking an interest in either of you. Billy and you have felt shivers of fear and anticipation down his spine when you see the gears in Stu's brain switch from "Stu" to "Ghostface".

Oh, oh, how sharp their smiles would be if a transphobe fucked around because they will make them find out. Not because they want you to get verbally abused or harassed! God, no!

They want you to watch them murder them. They will ask you to choose how to end them, how to play with them and what pieces should be found last.

Pieces of clothing are always shared, with how often everyone sleeps over it was inevitable. Accessories as well, hell, Stu managed to lose his body wash twice and he's been to both of your houses - it wasn't there either! Stu just buys things in bulk at this point.

Billy is really good at cutting and styling hair. If you ask, he will help you with yours - regardless of what style you want. If your hair texture is different from his own he will research about it to the best of his abilities.

Kisses with them are so messy. They always want to share and always at the same damn time - you get dizzy just trying to keep up in the mess of lips, teeth and tongue.

Stu throws parties, loves showing you off and Billy is there to whisk you upstairs if you get overwhelmed.

Both Ghostfaces have called you before. They tease you with lines like, "You got a boyfriend, handsome?" or "Damn, beautiful, your boyfriends get you all to themselves? Lucky boys"

[CHEST BINDING] "(Y/N)! How long have you been wearing your binder?" Stu calls from his kitchen, returning with a bowl of popcorn once you answered while you lay across Billy's front on the couch. "Been a while, right?" Billy said, a hand coming to rest on your back "Need a break?" Stu makes a noise of agreement as he lifts your legs and places them on his lap. "Want me to help, baby?" Stu asks.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] Billy helps you with administering the shot while Stu holds you, sometimes switching around. Stu has accidentally stabbed himself with the needle - he apologized profusely as Billy tells him he's contaminated the entire thing (you roll your eyes fondly at your boyfriends, Ghostface looks anything but scary when the two of them are squabbling on the bathroom floor).

Beauregard "Bo" Sinclair (House of Wax) —

I need to get this off my chest, Bo thinks hats are a staple of masculinity...close second are suits and ties, and cars come in third.

He gifts you hats. His favourite was the cowboy hat a victim no longer needed. While placing it on your head he made an obligatory sex joke, it was right there you can't possibly expect him not to.

Bo prefers for you not to make yourself known to victims, he knows you can handle yourself, he just worries.

That and he gets pissed when someone flirts with you. He gets even more pissed when they outright disrespect your identity and labels you as "weird".

He won't even pretend to feel sorry when Vincent questions where their bodies are while Lester grimaces when he sees their state.

If you're someone with long hair please be aware that Bo's eyes will shift to your wrists every so often if there are hairbands around them once he spots it. Anything that is too "snug" around your wrist will make Bo feel uneasy, he will ask you to take it off in an uncharacteristically soft tone that soon turns snappy if you attempt to prod.

When you see the marks on your boyfriend's wrists and/or find his baby seat you'll understand why.

Though he's a hardass to his brothers, he feels so much relief in knowing they love and trusts you just as much as he does.

Touchy - PDA hardly bothers him so why should he hold himself back when you're his darling lover.

Likes to tuck his hand in the back pocket of your pants (he pinches when he's feeling playful).

He rambles about cars. One night, as he was working on repairing a car, he rambles and slows to a stop when he feels as though he was talking too much but when you reassure him that you're listening and interested...his cheeks turn red.

Bo cooks. Not frequently, certainly not his usual task either, but if everyone else is busy/tired he rolls his sleeves and makes a classic and feel-good Southern meal.

[CHEST BINDING] Bo finds himself worrying. The heat and humidity probably don't help your case. He tries to convince you to wear tank tops or simply just your binder during hot days. Sometimes he even gruffs out you don't need to wear it at all as there's no one else around and the people that are there are the Sinclairs who know you. He won't push you but reminds you to keep yourself hydrated and not to push it.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] Bo asks if you need help, won't intrude if you say no but he does squeeze in an extra kiss once you're done.

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) —

Vincent Sinclair gives me "White Cat" vibes. So regal looking, so calm and so adamant about not being needy when in fact...he is.

Your boyfriend is an artist. You are his muse. Tale as old as time but why fix what's not broken?

Nonverbal and uses sign language or simple gestures to communicate. He is a bit self-conscious of his laughter but oh how you love hearing it. It makes him squirm every time you stare at him with nothing but love in his eyes.

Refuses to have you interact with the victims. He makes sure you stay in his room, safe and sound.

Brat.

He was basically the favourite twin - he can be bratty even if he tries to deny it.

If you say "no" to him he genuinely gets wide-eyed and makes a whining noise. What do you mean you didn't want to stay in his basement to accompany him while he worked? So what if it's sweltering hot out and the basement feels like Hell on earth! Spend time with him!

Baby talk always makes him burst into fits of giggles - you could be as unfunny as a heart attack but the minute you start speaking in baby talk he loses it.

He got anxious at the thought of his brothers not liking you. There's no reason why they would dislike you but he just worries. They love you though and he is so relieved that you get along so well.

Feel free to "paint" his wax figures. If his mask is starting to get uncomfortable or he just felt like he wanted to make a new one, you're free to go crazy on his old one.

Your boyfriend complains about wax clumping his hair. You now make it a habit to either tie it up, using a claw clip to hold it back, or braiding his hair before he toils away in the basement.

Genuinely loves spending time with you, even if you're just chilling adjacently from each other. He made a designated (Y/N) space in the basement where you can do pretty much anything in peace with Vincent nearby.

The victim said what about you? There's no way he will immortalize a transphobe in this town. He burns them alive after he paralyses them from the neck down, relishing in their screams as they turn into nothing but ash.

You notice his hearing is unbalanced/muffled on one side of his face and how he seems as though he anticipates touch all the time on that side. You make sure you're always approaching him on his "good" side - he is eternally thankful.

Total cuddle bug when you two are alone, prefers being the Big Spoon as he tucks his head at the crown of your head. He snores sometimes if he's really tired.

[CHEST BINDING] Vincent educated himself on this topic. Honestly, like Bo, he worries if you overexert yourself with the heat and at one point discusses with you if you'd rather have your chest permanently flat/smaller. He'd need proper equipment but he'd do anything to ensure you're safe and content.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] Parks himself in front of you and holds his hand out. Stares at you while you blink owlishly at him. His eye squishes into a crescent shape as he smiles once you hand over the needle to him. Let him take care of you, you're his darling muse!

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) —

He's the chaotic "Pitbull" boyfriend!

This sweet lad actually has trouble accepting help. It makes him uncomfortable if he thinks about it too deeply. He just found himself in scenarios where his usefulness was always at the forefront of why he was wanted, it's hard to get out of that mindset.

He loves you for helping him though, just have no idea how to articulate it properly. All blushes, stutters and squirms.

Your boyfriend gets excited when new victims come around, eager to loot through their things. Especially when someone has a similar style as you!

He gets self-conscious of how he smells because of the things he works with so he also loots tons of cologne and body sprays - you two basically have a goddamn Baths & Body Works on your bathroom vanity.

You two make a game of it, changing your scents for the day and deciding if it was shit or decent. Jonesy's vote is heavily influential.

Date nights are heavenly. Lester uses his nicer truck for outings. You two grab a bite and try to find new places to experiment since Ambrose is a ghost town and you two need to experience more than just death. Afterwards, he finds a lookout point and you three (yes, Jonesy follows) pile out to the back and curl up with the radio playing some cheesy country love songs.

If Jonesy is dropped off at the twin's place, the PG ratings climb the ladder.

Lester doesn't consider himself a violent man. He doubts he even wants to be if he is completely honest. But when someone flirts with you he feels this unbridled rage rise to his chest and down to his fist.

He spits at their feet as he tugs you away, his dominant arm already springing up in preparation for a punch when he feels them grab at his shoulder.

Grins when you scold him afterwards at home, nursing his bruised cheek.

If he's busy, Jonesy follows you to do chores!

By the way, that dog and your boyfriend always seem to know when some dick-for-brains are near you and steer you away. Will avoid confrontation when necessary.

Not above telling on the victims that shouted insults your way. Baby brother privilege!

His brothers adore you! So they find no trouble in slaughtering someone who dared spoke badly of you and upsetting Lester.

[CHEST BINDING] Lester is pretty observant of your cues. Quietly reminds you of how long you've been wearing your binder and offers to work out all the kinks in your back. He reads about it! Vincent helped him out as well. Lester peppers kisses all over your back once he's done, making sure you're practically melted against the bed once he's done.

[T-SHOTS, NEEDLES] He has slight hand tremors, minuscule but it worsens when he focuses on not twitching so he watches you as you do your thing, ruffling your hair and asking if you'd like anything to eat.

[slasherstories123]

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

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

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

New begging pt 2

Word count: 1.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hallowcreep]

just thinkin bout .. bo sinclair hands ..

⚠️warning slight nsfw content!!

imagine. . .

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you're on your knees eyes averted to the floor..Bo grips your chin forcing you too meet his eyes..a smirk forming on his lips.. "Darlin' you look so good like this..my little pet, being so good for me hm..?" He smiles cockily, filled with pride knowing he gets to use you to his dispose, his hand snakes into your hair giving it a good tug, as he leads you to do exactly what he wants. Biting his lip as he eyes you. "Now..you know what to do sugar, be good for me and get to work wontcha?"

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tags!

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

When You're Sick

pairing: bo x gn!reader

a/n: writing this because i'm literally so ill right now lol and i need comfort from this beautiful man <3

You wake up one morning, your head pounding and your throat feeling like you've swallowed razor blades, and Bo is still snoring loudly beside you. It isn't long though until your coughing wakes him up, and he's groaning in annoyance as he slowly sits up, squinting in the morning sunlight.

He turns to find you laid beside him, your face white as a sheet, dark circles under your eyes. You look like one of Vincent's projects, you're so lifeless.

"You look like shit." He simply says, getting up and walking out of the room, leaving you alone in the bed.

You didn't expect him to care much that you were sick, but you didn't think he'd just tell you you looked like shit and abandon you. You supposed that was just who he was. But just moments later, he comes back into the room, much to your surprise.

"Alright, I got juice or beer. Your choice." He offers, holding out the two beverages to you. "And we ain't got much food in the house, so I could run out and get you some."

You don't know what to say, you're not used to Bo being so...attentive. You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you sit up slightly, watching as a look of confusion crosses his features.

"What?" He asks. "Why're you smilin'?"

"Thank you." You say quietly, your throat feeling like it might just tear from speaking. "And I think I'll take the juice."

Bo struggles to suppress a smile, simply choosing not to provide you with a response as he approaches you, handing you the bottle of orange juice. But before you can take a swig of the drink, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Alright, I'll just go get ready, and then I'll go get you somethin' to eat, okay?"

You nod, suddenly feeling so much better now as you lift the bottle to your lips. "Okay."

[Main Masterlist] [Bo Masterlist]

[not-neverland06]

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[toxicanonymity]

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WARNINGS: NSFW I8+ only 🔞. f!Reader unless otherwise noted. Writing may contain dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual (noncon), unsafe sex, violence, and more. Read fic warnings.

TAG: Toxicanonymity ☠️.

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[slashingdisneypasta]

MultiVillains x Reader || Drabbles

Plots / Includes: These are each inspired by texts from the Unsent Project- so this is gonna be heartbreaking 😅 . Enjoy XD

(Also- the ratings at the end of the blurbs is how upsetting it is at least in my opinion, for your convenience XD 😅 0 is happy, 5 is sad, 10 is dark. Remember these are my opinions so take them with a grain of salt and proceed cautiously if you think anything will trigger you ^^ I'm just trying this out)

Bo Sinclair x ChildhoodSweetheart!Reader- whatever happen to us, remember that i always loved you and always will. Your parting words to your childhood sweetheart before you leave town. || 6-7 1/2 out of 10

Captain Hook x Reader- i don’t hate you. i’m sorry it ended how it did. An affirming moment between two people who used to love each other. || 4-5 out of 10

Cruella De Vil x Model!Reader- you did a damn good job of hurting me, but not good enough i’m healing. You call her up and say some things that satisfying your fricken soul. || 8-9 out of 10 (its angry)

Hades x Reader- even when I get over you and all that you’ve done for me, i’ll never forget the happiness. This one’s about an ex-lover of the lord of the dead who, if you asked, would never say a bad thing about him. And how he responds. || 2-3 out of 10

Inkubus x Reader- if you had said something earlier it would have been you. He finally admits he really wants you which is all you’ve wanted for the last 5 years but its awful because its too late and you cant do this with him now. || 6-7 out of 10

Laughing Jack x Reader- i hope you can forgive me one day. i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye when u left. i love you. These are the words L.J wishes he could send you, but that part of him that can admit those things out loud died a long time ago. || 5-6 out of 10

Wheezy Weasel x Reader- the universe keeps putting us in the same place at the same time and you still refuse to come to me. Wheezy is sick and tired of letting you leave every time you two find your ways back to eachother so he lays it all out on the table for you. || 5!!! out of 10

Warnings: Heartbreak and angst throughout. But also mentions of Mr and Mrs Sinclair (Neglect and abusive parenting), break ups, past break ups, caring about eachother but not getting back together, kind of psychotic reader in Cruella’s, being in mutual love but not being together, death of reader, gratuitous swearing, inner struggles, L.J struggling with his emotional trauma, break ups, immoveable objects, etc. Also unedited.

Bo Sinclair: whatever happen to us, remember that i always loved you and always will

Bo always had a deficiency in love- his parents never truly loved him and in a house like that you learn to protect yourself. You have to learn to protect yourself so your heart doesn’t break daily. You could tell this was in him, or it wasn’t in him, from the moment you met Bo when the two of you were 5. He just had that… air. And little five-year-old you, in overalls and mud, felt for him.

Since then, you did everything you could to make him feel loved, because honestly? From the second moment you met him he was. Sure, at first it was just puppy love; A little kid looking at another little kid and thinking he would look perfect next to a picket fence walking a cute dog, or in a church holding your hand. Despite that it was more then enough fodder to build a lifelong relationship from, developing rapidly over the years from being sandbox buddies to sneaking out of your window at night after a fight with your parents just to spend the night in his truck with him. To making out behind school for the first time and ending up with a kissing rash you hid by staying home for days. To him inviting you to prom. At 16 the two of you were the steadiest couple in town. And you were right when you were a kid- he would look good in a church holding your hand, now.

… Your heart still pangs like hell in your chest when you even just remember that that is never going to happen, though.

Because you cant stay and he cant leave.

He’s never going to walk that dog (Skippy you’d named it in your head over the years, after the peanut butter Bo liked) by that damn picket fence you would’ve taken such good care of. You would never get married, though it felt something like torture inside knowing that you two would not share a future at all.

Bo always had a deficiency in love- it came from his parents and you tried like hell to put him back together but looking at him now, your bags in the backseat and the drivers side of your car open, waiting for you… and him standing there all sweet and charismatic, like he’s not bothered by this when he raged last night in the darkness of your back yard… you can see it never really got fixed. Nothing you can do could ever repair what they broke. And it destroys you inside.

Sniffing, you carefully lay your hands on his shoulders just to feel him a last time, maybe commit him to memory. The darkness over his eyes from the baseball cap on his head hides the dark look inside him that you saw last night. You give him a serious look, nudging your forehead against the rim of his hat. You take a deep breath in, for saying goodbye with-

-He immediately shakes his head, leaning back from you. “Don’t say it.”

“Bo- “

“Naww, don’t say it.” Theres a good-humoured smirk on his face but the tone in his voice is not joking. He’s not joking. “Y’can still stay. C’mon, I’ll help you unpack- “

“Bo,” You start again, insisting and closing the space between you two again. Persistently, you catch his eye before speaking again, waiting until he’s still and he’s paying attention.

… Then you take another deep breath and lean your forehead softly against the rim of his hat, this time. “Whatever happens to us- I need you to know-… I always loved you, and always will.”

Then you squeeze your eyes shut, squeeze your fingers into his shoulders one last time, and then break away into the car.

Captain Hook: i don’t hate you. i’m sorry it ended how it did

Of all the things to see outside your window at night, this had to be one of the most surprising. Sure, its true that he used to visit you at your window every night, you would leave the window open for him, but its been years since then and now the window is closed and latched. And yet, he’s here.

Even so, you move forward a moment after you see him and unlock the window for him once again- then step back and wrap your dressing gown tightly around your body; eyes wide as they flicker up and down his body. “Is everything okay??- “

“Everything is fine, my dear.” A terrible pang rings throughout your chest at him calling you that, a twisted echo of the reaction you used to have to his pet name for you. A lot can change in 3 years, you suppose… but that doesn’t mean you like it. “I just… I wished to… ask you something.”

This experience is almost surreal, for you. Dreamy. Having Hook turn up at your window again after all this time has been a dream - no, nightmare, - for you since you said goodbye; You imagined all the things he might say, the way he might beg for you back and the way he might come back just to have a last word with you… you were never sure which was worse. Whether you hate them or still care about them, its always awful when your ex comes back. Its always painful.

You’re not quite sure which one this is. Looking warily at him, you arms crossed over your chest, you feel the cold air coming in from around him on your face and shake your head “… Why don’t you come inside?”

“… thank you, but no.”

“Why not??”

“I don’t think I’ll be staying for long, to be frank. Can I ask my question now, dear?”

“I… “Taking a deep breath in to strengthen yourself, you nod. “I suppose. Go ahead… “

Something in his face shifts then, something vulnerable appears. “Well I.. I- I’ve been thinking lately, about our time together. I had a dream, and… “ His eyes flicker away from yours for a moment, and you know he had dream like yours. You sympathise, but sympathy is a dangerous game and you can’t fall back into old feelings for him- it would be too much, having to start again from the beginning getting over him. So you fold your arms tighter and lift your chin, holding it in when he looks at you again. “And I couldn’t get it out of my head. Smee, that… blundering fool… suggested I come here and ask you myself, so- I- I just have to know, my dear… do you harbour any ill-feelings towards me, still? I know that we ended things and it was unpleasant but I would really regret it if… if you hated me, for anything I said at that time.”

At this you cant help it, your expression immediately softens and your arms loosen against your chest almost entirely. You feel bad for him. And you would never want him to ever think that.

You??? Hating him?????

You couldn’t.

“No… no no no- I- I could never- “ God, you’re a blubbering idiot. Taking a deep breath to calm down and possibly manage a complete sentence, you start again. “… I don’t hate you. I’m sorry for how it ended.”

The two of you just look at eachother, then. Searching eachothers faces for any of the malice that you remember from those last weeks- it wasn’t that you suddenly disliked each other though, it just… some things… sometimes two people aren’t meant to be for that long.

And thankfully, its not there.

A warm smile crinkles the corners of Hooks eyes, and he nods. “As am I.”

Cruella De Vil: you did a damn good job of hurting me, but not good enough i’m healing

“Arghhhh!” The frustrated scream is muffled by the pillow you have pressed against your face but its still loud, and you don’t feel better afterwards when you pull your warm face away from the pillow and force a deep breath. When that doesn’t work either you stand up, throw the pillow on the floor and stomp down on it.

Its childish, you know. But you are pissed.

Not only did she just stop answering your calls, stop looking at you at work, stop asking for your presence - like it was some switch!, - , but now she’s fired you!??

This. Bitch.

“How the fuck could she do this??” You hiss, storming to one side of your little studio apartment- then whipping around storming to the other side. “I am the face of that stupid fucking company!” With that, you snatch up a cushion from the couch this time on your way across the room. Its one she gave you, made of precious fur so she wouldn’t have to totally slum it in your apartment the rare times that she visited. You stop and stare at it for a few moments, fury bubbling and rising inside you at the sight of the stiff, uncomfortable black-and-white thing before you finally whip around again and go to your desk. There you grab a pair of scissors and stab them into the ugly thing.

That feels good. So you rip the scissors out again and cut a sizeable chunk out of one of the corners.

It cuts surprisingly easily and you sit down for a few minutes at your desk just cutting away at it until all you have now is a pile of feathers and fur. When its finished, you’re a little calmer and pick up your polaroid camera from the very edge of your desk. Snap!

“Hmmm,” You smirk, shaking out the polaroid until it shows the picture. “Cruella will appreciate this nailed to her office door I think… god I sound like a psycho… “For a moment, you consider chopping up the photograph, instead- but instead just shrug. “Honestly oh-fucking-well.“

Cruella made you this way. She can reap the rewards.

“… fucking hell… “As you sit by the ex-cushion and its innards, you feel an almost sadness looking at it. You remember how she bought in the first place, yes to jazz up your home a little bit so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable in the low-rent district,… but also so she could be there when you were sick that one time. That was shockingly warm, of her. You thought after that, that she actually cared about you.

Then your face goes sour again, anger licking at your heart like flames. Because despite that, she did this to you. Somewhere between then, and now, she decided that you weren’t in fact worth it. She changed her mind. Like you were an option on the fucking menu.

Slamming the scissors down on the desk and dropping the polaroid, you stalk across the room back to your bed. You throw pillows off of it until you find your cell phone, that she gave you, and punch in the numbers that would get you her.

 When the ringing stops and the line clears, and you can hear her breath in to say something, you immediately speak first. As far as you are concerned- she has nothing to say. “How dare you- I am a supermodel you heinous, ice cold, disgusting old freak. Your company is going to crumble without me to wear your rags and you’ll- ughh! You’ll- “ What? She’ll regret this? She’ll miss you? She’ll want you back? You know in your heart that none of that will happen. And it kills you. “Agh! I’ll- I’ll find something better. I’ll be much happier working for- being with, someone else. I promise.” Are you promising her, or yourself??? Either way this screeching has calmed you down some, and now you’re just standing there with one hand on your hip, breathing carefully. “… you know what? You hurt me real bad, Cruella, you did a fantastic job. But not good enough- I’m gonna heal.” As soon as you say it you know its true, and a semblance of sanity returns to your mind.

Then you hang up and, for good measure, you throw the cell phone at a wall with all your might- smashing it into pieces.

Hades: even when I get over you and all that you’ve done for me, i’ll never forget the happiness

“Even when I get over this and you and everything we had- I’ll never forget how happy you made me.” Those would be your last words to him. Those were perfect, you thought. He needed to know that despite this not working between you both anymore, that he would still never be a villain in your life. A lot of people make those assumptions about him and just because you were finished, you would never revert to being on of them. He made you happy for a long time when you thought you wouldn’t be that again and that will never be erased by anything. Not to you.

So, giving one final teary smile, you then turned around and walked away.

Its many many years later when you see eachother again. You’re much, much older now and your heart stopped beating. He meets you at the gate, not something he does with just everyone, and he smirks at you just like he used to.

Its nice, that he still looks at you the same now as he did back then. It makes you feel warm inside, despite being dead.

“So… welcome back.” Are the first words he says to you in so long, and you give a warm smile in response. Sure, you should be scared… you’re dead… but looking at him, you just can’t be. “How bout I show you to your bunk for the next eon?”

Nodding yes, you follow him nervously past the gates and past the river styx. You’re surprised, walking by that- aren’t you going in there?? You thought you would… But Hades keeps moving, not looking back as he leads you deeper into the Underworld. Past the throne room you’re familiar with, past a big iron door with Asphodel Meadows indented into it… to a similar door with Elysium on it. Your eyes widen, stepping back- but Hades’ smoke creates a barrier behind you so you cant get away. It gathers against your back and softly nudge you forward again.

There’s no way- you don’t deserve-

“Uh uh uh… not so fast, babe, you belong here. Look- “ Hades speaks and your wide-eyed attention is immediately on him again, waiting for a good explanation for this. You never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever end up- “I know when our thing ended I was aaa… lets say a little cold. But- I need you to know that wasn’t because I didn’t like you anymore. Babe, damn, you’re still my favourite mortal. And… “The odd, unfamiliar, empathetic look on his face transforms once more to a smirk now. “I heard all the nice things you’ve been sayin’ about me all these years. Remember, I got ears everywhere.”

Oh- well- you’re about to say something, but a smoke tendril wraps itself around your mouth. Hades holds up a finger. “Not just yet. I just wanted to show my gratitude and… “He pushes the door open, which creaks from absolute lack of use over the years, and what’s you see inside is beyond your wildest daydreams. There is absolutely no way he is sending you in there- “Welcome to your final resting place, sweetheart. You like?”

The smoke all over you slips away, then, you’re free. And without thinking, you step towards the doorway.

Its beautiful… and you can’t wait to be there. Is he really sending you there??? Glancing at him, he nods and you look back at Elysium. You take another step, putting your hand gently on the inside doorhandle.

Elysium. You can’t believe it.

“Y/N- “

“Hades,” You finally speak, turning to him before you just go and step inside without saying a word to him. If you did that, you would regret it forever. When he looks back at you, you give a gentle shrug. “I promised, Hades.”

This grin on his face now, is genuine. He loves you- he is always going to love you. This is the reason you couldn’t stay together, because one day you would die and it would be too hard on him. You’re so sorry that the separation changed nothing… but a small, selfish part of you is glad he still loves you too.

… But instead of saying that, making this harder on him, you just give another warm smile, a thank you, and then turn around and walk away.

Inkubus: if you had said something earlier it would have been you

You are literally looking at him in horror. You didn’t think before this that anyone in real life would truly have the power to horrify you to this degree, but he has done it. Honestly if anyone could, you’re not surprised it was him, but you do wish he would shut up now.

By the time he’s finished your eyes are downcast, you can’t even look at him. He comes back for the first time after a year and… and this!? 5 minutes ago the last thing he said to you was I’m going away for a little while, watch my plants and now its I shouldn’t have left like that. I’m in love with you???

You have no clue how to respond. You want to tell him to leave now, you want to say get fucked, how dare you, you want to slam the door closed so hard the walls shake and crumble, you actually pray for a hole to open up under you and take you away to somewhere where he isn’t looking at you anymore.

“Uhh… “Eyes flickering up towards the porch light to keep your eyes dry, you delicately cross your arms around your stomach and then tighten them there. Then you take a deep breath, and look square at him- you hope he scan see the rage and the hurt in them. You wish it would make him step away, back down, apologise. “So a year ago… when I said to you… if you think you’ll ever want me back then tell me now… were you listening??”

He senses the absolute storm in you but he doesn’t step away, or back down, or apologise. He takes a step forward, reaching out for you. “I always listen to you- “

“Oh-” Fiercely rolling your eyes, you twist away from him and pull your hand up and out of his reach. He always listens to you?? “Because I was asking you that because I needed to know, if I should let go of any dumb hope that the man I wanted would actually ever actually love me back, or if I should wait- because I would’ve waited. I really would’ve… “Looking at him now, you remember that part for definite. You loved him, you wanted him, you would’ve waited… however long, he needed. “Do you remember what you said, Inkubus?? It was important, so you should remember it. You better.”

You watch him and see the very moment the memory flickers through his head; The wince that follows… you almost feel the regret that must burn in his chest. “I said- “The sharp look in your eyes makes him stop. You do not want to hear them again. “I see… “

“Yeah.”

“I don’t suppose I could make it up to you, for that grievous mistake on my part?”

Here was the man you wanted so badly for the past 5 years, finally finally begging for you- actually begging. You know if you only said yes, just closed the door behind you and nodded he would grin at you and your insides would turn to goop, he’d kiss you just the way you imagined - and damn it did you imagine. Which is just wasted time, now, - and he would take it from there. It would be so easy to do. You might even be happy with the decision…

But then you take a deep breath and look away from him. Remember how he left and you had pick up your pieces and do this fucking thing on your own.

So, no. No.

You can’t.

Now your voice has lost all the unrestrained venom from before, all the anger, and you’re just tired and sad. “If you had said something earlier… “ God, it would have been so different… “But no. No. Its too late.”

“Y/N- “

You close the door.

Laughing Jack: i hope you can forgive me one day. i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye when u left. i love you

L.J’s POV

“Just send it.” I growl, an almost feral edge to my tone that I cant say I’m fully proud of. “Put. It. In. It’s just a bloody letter Jack. Now!- “

The letter nearly slips into the slot this time, but I see Y/N’s face in my head for a moment, just a moment, and they’re pretty as ever but they’re reading the letter. They’re reading the letter, finishing it, and then setting it aside. They do not respond to me.

The letter swerves and goes over the top, slipping down the backside of the letterbox, instead.

“Aghh!” I’m heaving. This is ridiculous! What!? Why can’t I- “My god.” Dropping to my knees on the ground, I reach underneath the letterbox with one of my long arms and collect the now dusty, dirty letter back again. I sigh. “Of course.”

Slowly getting back up to my feet, I look at the letterbox with a frown on my lips. I have to do this. I have to tell them…

Okay. Taking a deep breath and puffing out my chest, I inwardly pump myself up for this. I think I need to, considering how hard this seems to be. Let’s go Jack, we can do this, we’re very very close. Just one more try. Come on. Here we go-

I accidentally picture Y/N again at exactly the wrong moment. This time it’s a memory; This actually happened. And its horrible.

Before my eyes, seemingly, I see them animatedly explaining why they have to leave to me - because they got an amazing job opportunity, a fact I’m surprised I remember considering I was blocking them out at this point, - , that they’re so very sorry - something I definitely didn’t care to hear at the time, - , and then… inviting me to see them off the next day. Say goodbye properly.

… But the next day came and I didn’t go to see them off… The letter once again mises its target. I saved myself from that unnecessary pain of saying goodbye. Didn’t I?

I’ve been so sure about that, for a while… But not so much, lately. No. Suddenly I regret it. I’m thinking maybe I should have been there, maybe it would have been better. Perhaps I wouldn’t still have this nagging itch in my chest every time I think about them. I wish I would have… been there…

And now I just want to tell them that. They need to know that I’m sorry I didn’t go, or say goodbye to them when they left.

That I hope they forgive me.

I love them.

But I am apparently physically incapable of sending this bloody letter!

Wheezy Weasel: the universe keeps putting us in the same place at the same time and you still refuse to come to me

Creaaaaaaaaaaaak- “Oh, shoot.”

“Mmm… toldya that floorboards a little loose.” Wheezy mumbles sleepily, cracking his eyes open to see you caught with your boot just pulled on but not laced up yet. He immediately sees what’s happening, and those scary steel eyes narrow at you. Oh, no. You were really hoping to avoid that. “… Goin’ somewhere?”

“I… “ Searching for the words gets you nowhere; There are no words to sufficiently explain yourself in a flattering light. You’re running away- again.

“Its kinda early.”

“Wheezy, I- “ You try again, but he’s already climbing out of bed and fixing his sleeves. Watching him, you wait for the way he’ll shut down and let you go like he always does. It hurts, but you’re used to it. And you’re sure it hurts him when he sees that you’re leaving, so… you’re even. You owe it to him to stay and see the moment he gives up on whatever’s between the two of you every time.

“No.” Is all he says, and you’re a little surprised. No?? What does no mean??? You open your mouth to ask, concerned, but he says it again; Head still down and eyes not on you as he finished rolling up his sleeves. “No.”

“No??”

He lifts his eyes to see you again and you’re struck with the utter intensity of them. “No, yer not leavin’ again.”

Jaw dropping, you look around- searching inside yourself for the words again- this time to say yes, you are. You have to, this isn’t good for either one of you. Sorry. “… Actually- “

“Y/N,” Suddenly he’s in front of you and his hand’s on your face and his eyes are soft on you now and god- you could give up right there. He is such kryptonite to you, its unbelievable. “Just stay this time, huh? Just fer breakfast- its Greasy’s day, so you don’t haveta worry about anything. And it might actually taste good, considering the boss aint cookin’.”

“I can’t stay for breakfast… “

“Why’s that?”

“You know why!”

Eyes going cold again like a switch, Wheezy gives a frustrated sigh in front of you and closes his eyes; Letting his hand fall down to your shoulder, instead. “… why can’t you believe this could work?”

What kind of question is that? Exasperated and desperate to just leave, you step away from him, edging towards the door. “Because it never does!- “

He looks at you again and he looks so damn frustrated, throwing his arm out for emphasis. It’s surprising, he’s usually so cool. “ - Because you always run away! What are you scared of, Y/N??” He comes in close to you again and you feel like a bowl of soup- “The universe keeps putting us together over and over again- and you still refuse to come to me.” His voice is quiet, and soft as it can be after years of chain smoking, and it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you… in a crappy low-rent apartment downtown smelling faintly of pee, no less. “… Why’s that??”

You have no idea what to say to second part, so you elect to ignore it. Its easier. “… I’m not scared- “

“Really?? You coulda fooled me.”

“Wheezy, I-… This is dangerous, for me.” You can feel the pressure building up, hear the blood pumping in your ears. You have not wanted to admit this part, you have wanted to keep it buried so as to not hurt him but it’s about to come out and you can’t stop it. “This stuff that you do for Smartass, and the judge… I can’t be mixed up in all that! I could get hurt. And… I can’t-… I can’t… “

“… y’cant put yourself in that situation for a guy.” He realises slowly, on his own. And it’s a small relief… though really, really small.

You want to tell him it’s not true, that he is so worth it because truly, honestly, he is and you love him… but… “Yeah,” You let out, more as breath then an actual admission. But he hears it.

And he understands, too. He nods and actually looks like he understands you. Which just makes it worse for you! He’s fucking perfect, what the hell!? “I get that… “

“Thank you… “

… When it’s clear that Wheezy isn’t going to stop you this time, you sit down on the edge of the bed and silently do up your boot laces. Wheezy carefully sits down next to you, reaching to get your jacket for you and hold it silently while you finish your boots. When you do finish, you turn to him and he hands it to you, forcing a small smile.

For a moment more you just sit there, wondering how you could possibly say goodbye to him. Really, say goodbye. Because you don’t think… you’re ever going to do this again. Not after this. Its over.

You can feel your heart breaking as you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Wheezy.”

“Love ya, baby.”

“Oh I love you too.” You sigh out, pausing only a moment more to let it sink in, then take a deep breath and leave the room.

[phntmeii]

✰ Phntmeii's Headcanon Masterlist ✰

✰ You can request general ideas or characters you want to see more of or specific requests. (EX: 'Vinsome Sanji Fluff'. Or request 'Jon Snow x Wildling!Reader at the Wall headcanons'.)

✰ NSFW content will often be AFAB or GN for readers and often have a Dom!Character unless specified otherwise. (AMAB terms are unfamiliar to me so may not me fulfilled). Minors DNI. Will be blocked.

✰ I will only write for characters that I know to not provide too OOC content. Please refer to my current fixation list for fandoms that I'm apart of or the already listed fandoms I've done headcanons for!

✰ Headcanons/Requests may not be fulfilled in order! I will generally bounce around different lists based on my preference so it may take a bit to get around to certain characters!

✰ Regular Headcanon Lists generally range from 25-35 bullet points with sections that include characters' love languages. Compilation Headcanon Lists have a scenario listed with characters listed under a specific reaction.(Can be a simple sentence or two or a drabble for each character.)

REQUESTS: Working on current submitted requests!

✰ Current Fixations: Across the Spider-Verse, COD:MWII, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, Live Action One Piece, Horror Slashers, Mortal Kombat 1

NSFW Headcanons are highlighted in RED. WIP Headcanons are highlighted in PINK. This list will be updated as time goes on with more characters and links directly to the posts. Compilation Headcanons with several characters are highlighted in PURPLE.

ASOIAF:

Aegon II Targaryen Aemond Targaryen Jaime Lannister [Kingslayer] Jaime Lannister [Redemption] Margaery Tyrell x Snow!Reader Robb Stark Sandor Clegane Sandor Clegane x Snow!Reader (20% Done)

ATSV:

Hobie Brown Miguel O’Hara Miles Morales Miles Morales x SelfHarming!Reader Miles Morales [E42]

One Piece Live Action:

Luffy w/ Breeding Kink OPLA Characters and Physical Touch OPLA Characters Makeout Sessions OPLA Characters “Only One Bed” Trope OPLA Characters "Only One Bed" Trope PT. 2 (Coming Soon) OPLA Characters x disabled!Reader Possessive!OPLA Characters x shy!Reader (Coming Soon)

Random things OPLA Characters would Do Roronoa Zoro w/ Breeding Kink Sanji Cooking w/ Reader (Coming Soon) Sanji w/ Breeding Kink Sanji x Reader w/ ED (Coming Soon) Sanji x shy!Reader (Coming Soon) Jealous!Sanji x Pirate!GN!Reader Straw Hat Crew when You’re Sick Usopp w/ Breeding Kink

Slashers:

Angela Baker Brahms Heelshire Bo Sinclair NSFW Alphabet Corey Cunningham Hannibal Lecter (Coming Soon) RZ!Michael Myers (Coming Soon) RZ!Michael Myers x Russian!SO Sinclair Twins [Artist!Reader + Bimbo!Reader] Slashers and Hanahaki Disease Slashers Thoughts on Having Kids Slashers x depressed!Reader (Coming Soon) Slashers x Fanfic Reading SO Slashers x Naive!Sunshine!SO Slashers x Shy!SO Slashers x StrictLatina!SO Slashers x Petite!Strong!SO Thomas Hewitt

HOTD Texts:

Aemond's Texts After Season 1 HOTD x SO!Reader: "Are You Cheating on Me?” HOTD x SO!Reader: "Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Team Green Incorrect Quotes

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[calmcoldevening]

Your relationships with boys (slashers x reader)

Michael Myers

♡ This guy looks like a big black cat. He does whatever he wants; he acts according to the first dictate of emotions, therefore, if he wants something, he will achieve it, no matter how unrealistic the goals may be and no matter how difficult the fulfillment of these desires may be.

♡ At first, he does not like your affection much, or rather, he simply does not understand it because of his understated empathy (if he has it at all). Later, he begins to realize that you treat him in a special way: you cook food, let him sleep with you, bathe, if necessary, treat his wounds - therefore, over time, he begins to show you some timid actions.

♡ He often does what the voices in his head chant to him, so if he wants to touch you anywhere, he will do it; it's better not to resist if you don't want new bruises on your neck and wrists.

♡ This boy is crazy about sweets, especially chocolate. You should replenish your stocks of goodies at least once every three days, otherwise Michael will start behaving like an unsatisfied teenager.

♡ Please feed him at least twice a day (breakfast and dinner will be enough), we don't want the story of eating other people's dogs to repeat, right? And, oh my God, he eats like as many as seven healthy men, which is most likely due to his huge size. If earlier you could easily cook spaghetti and eat it for two or three days in a row, now one such pan flew away in one evening.

♡ And yet, no matter how hard Myers tries to deny it, he is pleased with your presence. When he is in the same room with you, the air is noticeably discharged, it becomes lighter and somehow softer; Michael begins to breathe more calmly under his dirty white latex.

♡ The guy has a very high pain threshold, so you shouldn't be surprised when he appears on your doorstep covered in blood, and under a blue jumpsuit you will find several stab wounds or bullet marks; he doesn't take much care of himself.

♡ Did you have a pet? Forget about him. As soon as Michael sees any cat or bird in your house, he will certainly get rid of it; the guy is extremely selfish, he does not want to share your care with someone else.

♡ Michael is the owner. Did you go to the store and someone gave you a lingering "Kitty-kitty" or hit you on the ass? Expect Michael to come home three times more drenched in blood. This scoundrel got what he deserved; even in his coffin, he will remember with fear the day he was born.

♡ He likes it when you wash his hair or just mess with it when he appears in front of you without a mask; Mike fucking likes it when you massage his scalp, especially considering the migraines from constant voices.

♡ His mom (or rather, her ghost) speaks well of you and sometimes tells her son how to behave in a particular situation, so you have a better chance of avoiding awkward moments.

♡ A massage before going to bed, if he sleeps at all, would be very useful; his shoulders are too tense after years in Smiths Grove and frequent murders.

♡ Only from your mouth "Mikey", oh, this affectionate nickname, sounds acceptable to him; Myers feels a strange calmness and warmth in his heart.

♡ He likes your style of music; the last time he heard you turn it on on your phone was when you were cooking dinner late at night, thinking Michael wasn't around.

♡ Sometimes he brings you some nice things; his mom says that girls like it when they are given gifts.

♡ You are constantly, well, or almost constantly, being watched, that's a fact.

Bo Sinclairr

♡ A walking time bomb.

♡ Because of his frequent mood swings, you don't know what to expect from a guy, so be prepared for anything.

♡ Bo loves cookies made by your hands very much, it reminds him of the time when mom was still alive and in her right mind.

♡ No matter how it sounds, he likes it when you're in his clothes; big hanging T-shirts on your innocent body attract his animal gaze.

♡ His clothes are your clothes.

♡ Bo is pleased at the thought that you like to help him at the gas station; lately you have become quite familiar with tools and have learned something about the design of cars.

♡ You often have to stop the verbal sparring bordering on fists that arise between the Sinclair twins; Vincent is very grateful to you for this, he does not like to quarrel with his brother.

♡ If he feels bad, he will just pick you up in his arms (whatever you do, he will just pick you up from that place, whether it's cleaning, drawing or cooking soup) and take you to your shared bedroom; he will sit down and put you on his lap, burying his nose in your shoulder or hair; he can sit like this from five minutes to several hours (he will let you go, for example, if you start jumping out of his arms, feeling the burnt smell from the first floor).

♡ And yet, no matter how stubborn and uncontrollable he is, he tries to be gentle towards you. You don't know, but he often watched couples coming to Ambrose and watched for a long time how this or that guy treated his girlfriend. The behavior has always been different, strange in its own way, but Bo realized that mostly guys hug their partners, kiss them and give gifts. He tries to imitate them, at least in the manifestation of physical contact; he also tries in every possible way to cheer you up during sad periods (for example, during menstruation; these days he is especially attentive to you and every changed spectrum of your mood; sweets? no question; hugs? will it be done; hold it on your hands like a little princess girl? everything for you, honey, just don't cry)

Thomas Hewitt

♡ At first, he really didn't know how to behave. Your relationship was strange: he is a huge maniac with a chainsaw, and you are a victim who somehow magically liked this big guy. At the very beginning, it was fulfilling your basic needs: food, security, sleep. Gradually, when you got a little used to his oppressive aura, he allowed himself to touch you: shoulder, hair, neck — it doesn't matter, just ordinary physical contact!

♡ He likes your cheeks so much. Especially when you blush and start muttering something resentfully under your nose to hide your embarrassment. He finds it extremely charming.

♡ One of the difficulties was that Tommy didn't talk much, if at all. That's why you started communicating with your own sign language. Need to bring something? You are playing a kind of pantomime. A monosyllabic answer? You stretch out your hands in front of him and give each of them a simple answer (yes/no, at home/on the street, etc.) and Thomas chooses left or right, it turned out to be very convenient. Sometimes it even happened that he took your small palm with his huge one and began to write something similar to letters on it with his finger; they were uneven; he often wrote words by ear, but this did not prevent you from understanding him.

♡ His mom didn't approve of your relationship (at the beginning). In her opinion, you were too strange, slow and timid; it would be difficult for you to live in this house. But gradually she got used to your company and even fell in love with you, damn it! You became her daughter-in-law. "My Tommy is a good boy; don't hurt him like the kids at school; take care of him."

♡ With uncles, everything turned out to be scarier, they were terrible perverts. That's why Tommy tried to be there for you all the time and protect you (a knight with a chainsaw, cool).

♡ As for the mask: he blushed terribly when you asked if he could take it off, started pulling the edge of his apron or abruptly went into the basement. After a while, he finally took it off and was surprised when you kissed every inch of his skin.

♡ The guy really likes to spend time with you. I especially like to leave the house in the evenings and lie down with you on the prickly grass a little away from the house so that neither Hoyt nor Monty can hear you. You lie with your hands tightly clasped in a lock and fingers interlaced; the grass scratches the exposed parts of your body, which sometimes makes you squirm, rubbing the earth into one of the most worn T-shirts; you look at the blue sky with pale pink sunset stripes, watching the white-sided moon light up in the distance. Thomas could start to wheeze softly, which meant his laughter when you told one of the funny stories of your childhood. Just always wait for him before the next walk; we don't want your ankle to get caught in one of the massive bear traps, right?

♡ Sweetheart, he loves you so much!

♡ Thomas loves your soft palms with slightly cracked fingertips from the heat and drought! Your hands smell of soap, with which you constantly wash dishes in the kitchen, as well as grass and cinnamon after recently cooking some simple cakes. He's never eaten anything tastier in his life! (in truth, even old Hoyt appreciated them: "Not bad for such a city girl," although you saw that he continued to stare at your ass).

♡ He likes it when you lie on his chest. He starts purring with pleasure. You can hear his measured beating, leaning your ear against his chest; now he is without an apron, in only a loose shirt and loose trousers, which you instructed him to put on before going to bed if he wants to sleep with you in an embrace. Thanks to your presence, Thomas has begun to sleep better.

I just drank my tea and thought about these sweet boys. Well they're so cute and pretty so i like to write about them. And have a nice day <3

[scuddisher]

RATHER BE THE HUNTER THAN THE PREY

Well aware that you are about to succumb to your demise, you beg for one final wish from Bo—that he doesn’t let you die a virgin—and he is almost too happy to oblige.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — bo sinclair x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — drabble, smut WORD COUNT — 2.6k WARNINGS — mature content, kidnapping, intense situations, use of restraints (chains), use of a weapon (knife), possessiveness, petnames used (baby, darlin, babydoll), dark! bo content btw  SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, dub-con (consensual), virgin! reader, mild praise kink, finger-fucking, dry-humping, dacryphilia, creampie, no use of protection, size kink (bo is biggg), drooling, loads of dirty talking because…it's bo and he seems talkative & loud to me! RELEASE DATE — JAN 3RD, 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — had a dream about this and immediately had to write it out. kinda got lost in this lmao. also i’m new at writing for slashers & dark toned fics in general, so please go easy on me! not edited <3

NAVIGATION | SLASHERS MLIST & RECS

The hefty clunk of the metal restraint is what pulled you from the lulled-over state, fading images of the inside interior of the man's gas station replaying in your mind until it all began to make sense again. His southern accent, that charming smile, and his sudden display of attraction led to you being hit over the head—Bo had you right where he wanted you.

His calloused fingers ran through your hair, pressing into your scalp to feel the heat radiating from your tense state of being. That Cheshire grin on his lips, it was beyond intriguing, but not as much as the surrounding space. Pictures of gruesome scenes displayed on his wall, multiple women having been tortured and played with according to the evidence he had purposely placed within eye level of the chair you were contained to.

"Like my work?" He spoke so confidently, as if his set of morals only made sense to his brain—and your opinion wasn't necessary in response to his question. "Not as good as my brother’s, I'll give it that."

His head tilted as he spoke, the hat clinging to his brown locks slipping slightly from the amount of sweat that had collected on his forehead. The action of pulling you along through the pathways of the small, abandoned town showed clearly by his physical state. The smallest bit of sweat showed, stained under his arms as he lifted his hand to fix his hat.

By the duress on your form, marks of his fingernails digging into your skin as he dragged you along, he seemed almost tired by the way he stepped closer to you in a slow motion pace—but he wasn't finished with you yet.

"But my work is much more fun." His smile widened to show you his teeth, straight and lightly stained, a darkness in his eyes that sent a chill down your spine.

It wasn't the restraints on your limbs—wrists and ankles held against the cold metal chair with you on full display for him—that made you lightheaded, but what was to come.

You had put together long ago that something was different about the small town, off and wrong. But the bite of your tongue helped you keep your cool, only until now had you kept in mind just what type of people you were dealing with in the confined space. You knew it from the moment something had gone wrong with your car that stopping in the middle of nowhere, town or not, was dangerous—and even more-so when those inhabiting the place appear extroverted considering their living conditions are plagued by few tenants.

You couldn't complete a full word, let alone a sentence. The way you shook, rattling the metal chair as if an earthquake was occuring, it only fed Bo's desires.

Had he not been the second face you had seen in the town, collected and calm with a lingering smile that made you feel safe for a moment's beat, you wouldn't be here now.

The blade of the knife attaching to your throat instantly stilled your movements, shallow breathing finally giving your ears a chance to hone in on his words.

"Now, now—there…" The way Bo spoke made it seem like he had dealt with a hundred shivering and whimpering people in his life and this was nothing new. "Can't have you witherin’ away on me so soon, darlin', hmm?"

The blade was dulled, making it that much more devious as he plucked at your skin cells in a threatening way. His voice could only coax so much of your nervous responses, hot tears slipping down your cheeks and falling onto the scars along his wrists as he hissed. "Cryin’ like a little bitch won't help either, now will it?"

For once, the man was awaiting a response. Your quieted state gave him the power to make you answer him, your hands tightening around the metal restraints in tandem with your head shaking slowly.

"Good." His voice was just above a whisper. "Good…"

His blue eyes seemed to turn darker by the second. His prowling state looming over you, legs helping him wander around to the front of the chair so he could stare at you face to face—it made your limbs return to their shaking to see the blade pulled from your skin and now in his distant hand.

"You're good at this." From his gently spoken words, it seemed like the words playing in his head were accidentally being said aloud. His racing thoughts, feral glare, and clutching fingers around the knife gave him the appearance of a predator looking at its prey. "Very, very good at this, baby."

Your mind raced along with his, attempting to remind yourself that he seems used to this. Used to your smaller state, used to the gritty appearance of your own blood and sweat soaking into your skin, and even more used to your trembling limbs soon falling into the hold of his rough hands once the knife was placed on a small table next to the chair.

He was effervescent, watching you stuck in the same chair he had seen dozens in before. His head bobbed, tongue leaving his mouth to lick his drying lips as his eyes caught sight of the way your clothing hugged your frame. You watched the corners of his mouth rise, blinking in your direction before meeting your gaze.

"Got a little dirty from the chase, didn't you?"

Your quick nod made him cackle under his breath, almost a hiss and a sign mixed together—mild attentiveness in the way you respond to him so quickly since showing you what he could do with the knife. He was being entertained, but his patience was getting cut shorter by the minute.

Once his hands had found your shirt, you knew what was to come. The use of someone, toying and prodding at them—Bo claimed a devilish smile at your wide gaze, knowing well that you knew what was occuring.

"Don't worry, babydoll—" You wanted to whimper, to show some sign to him of your innocence, but he already had his plan playing out in his mind. "—I'm a real good fuck."

"B-Bo—" His name leaving your mouth made him bite down on his bottom lip, face moving in closer to listen to your words carefully.

He couldn't help the way his brows raised, interest partaking his mind in a split second. The man seemed caught off guard, the sudden use of his name—only said to you once while greeting—was new to him. Especially considering that you had remembered it, he almost could hold back his smile.

"Yes?" The tone in his voice raised, gesturing for you to carry on with your sentence. Whatever you were to ask, it would certainly bring him joy.

"I-I—" But as your words returned to a stutter, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

"I-I-I—" He was mocking you, his high-pitched tone almost annoying to even yourself. The man loved games, playing you like he'd get a prize at the end—but now you were simply postponing his own release.

He grabbed at your wrists, pulling at them so violently that the restraints threatened to cut at your skin worse than the knife would have done. The man had officially lost his patience, tugging at the metal chair until the locks once confining you to the seat opened and your body was pulled upwards into his hold.

"What do you want? Huh?" His voice was loud, guttural and that of someone who had no compassion. "Cause you're wasting my damn time!"

The heat of your body against his drove him even harder to not break then and there, your frame cradled into him and fitting perfectly. His chin had to lower towards his chest just so your eyes could be leveled, the arm wrapped around your waist tight and his hand on your wrist even tighter.

"If you don't speak up, you'll never speak again!" He spoke through gritted teeth, eyes shining in the dim lights of the room below the station. Although his voice's tone had simmered down to above a whisper, you knew you were running out of chances.

"P-Please…"

His eyes squinting in annoyance was nothing but harsh, almost just as mean as his shaking head was at your words.

"I know I am gonna die."

Finally, you have caught on. It was those few words that made his face release, the smile slowly returning to his lips.

"I don't wanna die a v-virgin. Bo, please—"

"A virgin?" That whispery voice he had, like he couldn't believe the words coming from your mouth. "A virgin."

"Bo—"

"You want me?" His tone had turned dark once more, his step against your frame making his thigh connect with your lower half. The hiss of your tongue made him blink slowly, the cogs in his brain turning faster and faster with ideas of what to do with you.

"You had never been touched? Not before my hands…" The man seemed to fall deeper and deeper into his desires, his racing thoughts now in his frontal cortex and beginning to consume him. As you shook and shivered, you felt the heat of his tongue sliding across your lips—the scent of his breath now in your nostrils as he licked at your mouth. "My tongue…"

He was fading from reality, falling into a dominant state that urged him—and made his jeans tighten more as he thought and poked at you. It wasn't until you blinked, felt the warmth of his face leave your own that you could take in the pleasurable instance before you. His hand had taken your own, slowly moving down towards his thick pair of jeans, and falling along the shape of his hardening cock restrained by the pants he wore.

"Feel that?" Bo, always wrapped up in his own pleasure and need for release, was finally coming to terms with the fact that he had someone innocent and fresh to the world of sexual actions in front of him. "That's how hard you've made me."

"Bo—" You saw the way the lines in his forehead became more prominent when you said his name, and even caught sight of his cock throbbing against his jeans a second after.

"Keep sayin' my name so pretty, and I just might fuck the daylights out of you, darlin." He beamed with every word, his own hands beginning to trail around your frame.

He felt the clothes on your body, raising the bottom of your shirt to feel at your skin. The hiss that left him when he came into contact with your chest, felt at your hardening nipples—it all made him move in closer to you for friction. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted to feel something deep within you.

"Well—" The button of your pants was undone, his own popping open by a quick flick of his thumbs. As more and more skin of the two of you was exposed, the man seemed to need to suck in more air into his lungs. "Since you asked so nicely."

It only took a beat for him to have you spun around, back flesh against his front and your ass rubbing against his length soon pulled from the hold of his clothing. You could feel every bit of him, inch by inch. And as your mouth watered, it was just as quickly pooling from the corners of your mouth as he ripped at your underwear to run his fingers through the wetness created by your own curious pleasure.

He lifted his fingers away from your torn clothing, raising them towards your face to show you the slick wetness strung between his digits. "And this is what I've done to you…"

With every grin Bo gave you, you felt the pulse of his length against you. The moment you saw him smiling in your peripheral was the same time you felt his fingers returning to your wetness, digits slowly slipping into you and creating squelching noises from his rough pace. You could feel the callouses from his work, feel the coolness of his fingers turn hot as he fucked you with them, and even hear his deep panting in your ear as he ground himself against you.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, the breath knocked out of you from the sudden loss of his fingers. It was only for a second that you could see behind you, watch as his wet fingers wrapped around his own length and coated himself with your wetness, but the image alone had you bucking your hips against nothing for a sooner release.

"Look at you. Like a dog in heat…aren't you?" Your nodding made his sentence fade out, the smile once on his face lowering as he pulled at your hips with a harsh grip. "Do you want my cock that badly?"

Now his voice had turned back into a whisper. You couldn't even nod fast enough, the tip of his cock at your entrance taking the breath you needed to moan as he entered you. Deeper and deeper, it almost seemed as though he wouldn't fit.

"Fuck…" He winced at your tightness, panted at the sight of himself slipping out and back in slowly, and laughed a deep chuckle at the sight of light splatters of blood covering his cock from your virgin body taking him first. "Fuck!"

You couldn't speak, garbled sounds of moans, groans, and whines coming from you. Your sounds were nearly covered up by his loud groans, his thick cock railing into your body making your limbs run sore. Just as you fell forward, arms catching yourself on the metal chair that once held you down, you felt the pulsing of your walls working their magic on the man who had never felt the insides of a virgin.

Bo, the calm and collected man you had known for a short period of time, was losing himself with his cock inside of you. His pants were frantic, moans and groans colliding in his throat and making him create animalistic sounds.

"You—You're, ahh—fucking so good. So—So good for me." The man was a mess, his mind so clouded with pleasure and white that he nearly missed your walls clenching on him, an orgasm arising from you. It was the first orgasm caused by someone beside yourself, and you were a mewling mess along with him.

"Bo—Bo I—"

"Come on my cock." He had finally found his stance, his heavy boots planted on the old floor as he brutally thrusted his hips until the pace of his lower half turned frantic. Racing for his own release, the man was using your limp body like a pocket-pussy, not even the least bit concerned about the red marks turning into bruises along your skin from his rough hold.

"You're mine—m-mine…" The man had officially lost himself within you, the thick ropes of his cum painting your insides making you let out deep breathes and suck in even larger ones to combat his form falling against you on the metal.

As he last few drops of his cum spurted into you, he pulled his length from your walls—wincing at the feeling of the cold air against his hot skin as he pulled his jeans back up his legs and stretched.

Your body, tired and used to completion, finally had its fill. Your blinking eyes couldn't help the small tears still falling down your cheeks, Bo catching the droplets on the pads of his fingers as he pulled you backwards into him.

"Don't cry—" He spoke in a hushed voice, praising you for taking him so well. "You did so well for me. You got just what you wished for, right? Shush—shush your cries babydoll."

Even with the warmth of his hug from behind, it couldn't divert your gaze from the floor—your eyes set upon the metal drains along the tiled flooring. This was death as a building, as a town, and as a person—and Bo was just playing with you.

"I think it's time I get my own wish granted, don't you?"

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

[creepswrites]

❝ CREEPS ‣ 22 ‣ IT/ITS ‣ REQUESTS OPEN ❞ ‣ ALL WRITING ‣ MASTERLIST ‣ VIEW RULES AND REGULATIONS BELOW TO REQUEST!

I. ❝ RESTRICTIONS ❞

‣ The following themes are PROHIBITED: racism, homophobia, transphobia, inc*st, ped*philia, illegal age gaps, extreme/harmful fetishes and kinks, r*pe, self-h*rm, suic*de, & extremely graphic abuse/depictions of abuse.

‣ Topics such as mental illness, violent scenes, and mention/depiction of abuse may pop up on occasion and will be properly tagged. While violent scenes may occur, I try to avoid topics I know to be upsetting to read as well as topics I myself find upsetting.

‣ I will NOT write smut with underage muses of mine, even if the reader is the same age.

‣ I will write for AMAB, AFAB, TRANS, and GN READERS! If you have specific pronouns for your reader request, make sure to state those! I always default to gender neutral reader unless otherwise specified :)

‣ Please do NOT repost my writing anywhere! Ask to translate, do not unless I have given explicit permission for you to do so.

II. ❝ THEMES ❞

‣ Common themes I write for include but are not limited to:

fluff / slice of life

angst / darker themes

nsfw / smut

violence

multi-chapter stories

‣ I do write reader x canon OR canon x canon, so long as it does not violate any of my restrictions! I can be picky about what canon x canon pairing I write for though, it has to speak to me.

III. ❝ REQUESTING ❞

‣ I reserve the right to deny any request for any reason.

‣ Do not spam/pressure me to write! I write for what inspires me in the moment. Requests will be completed when I have the time.

‣ Requests sent when they're closed will be discarded!

HEADCANONS | 1-3K ONESHOT | 4K+ ONESHOT

‣ Headcanons : Five character max, one character min. If the headcanon prompt is specific enough, it can be combined with a small drabble! These vary in length/detail. Unless characters for headcanons are specified, I'll likely write as many/as few as I feel inspired for!

‣ 1-3k Oneshot : These vary in length & detail depending on the material provided. If requesting, please specify, otherwise I default to headcanons. These can take me longer than headcanons so I take requests for them more sparingly.

‣ 4k+ Oneshot : Meant for more specific scenarios with lots of ideas & content involved! I rarely do these unless I'm particularly inspired by the prompt given. Usually, 4k+ is reserved for long-term story chapters.

IV. ❝ MUSES ❞

‣ Michael Myers : Halloween (1987, RZ, DBD, & 2018/Kills)

‣ Jason Voorhees : Friday the 13th

‣ Bubba Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, & Thomas Hewitt : The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

‣ Brahms Heelshire : The Boy (2016)

‣ Billy Lenz : Black Christmas (1974)

‣ Vincent Sinclar, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, & Nick Jonas : House of Wax (2005)

‣ Stu Macher & Billy Loomis : Scream

‣ Leslie Vernon : Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

‣ Pyramid Head : Silent Hill

‣ Carrie White : Carrie

‣ Danny Johnson, Anna, & Amanda Young : Dead by Daylight ‣ You may ask me to try any DBD character though!

‣ Corey Cunningham : Halloween Ends (sparingly)

‣ Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson : Stranger Things (sparingly)

‣ Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom : IT (1990, 2017, & 2019) (sparingly)

‣ ICON + HEADER ‣ COVER IMAGE ‣ LAYOUT INSPO

[hallowcreep]

bo sinclair rambles oug

⚠️ warning implied nsfw !!

read under the cut! <3

okay wait hear me out imagine bo on his knees begging, like head tilted up to look at you, looking thru his lashes.. his thick accent coming through as he pleads to touch you...having him in the palm of your hand... oohmgmf jus thinkin'...how good he'd look on his knees like i KNOW he whimpers ..

[myers-meadow]

Meadow's Masterlist for Michael Myers & Thomas Hewitt & The Grabber

My list of works is growing and growing, so I split my masterlist up. Here is the list for the fics I've written for Michael Myers, Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt and The Grabber. Created and last updated on 24-04-2023. All my writing, even the shorter pieces that don't go onto AO3, are reblogged over at @myers-meadow-archive for ease of keeping track and archival purposes.

The link to my list for my other masterlist with Otis Driftwood, other horror writing and several other fandoms is here.

The links are in order of fandom, the newest writings are at the top.

Reblogging my writing is very much appreciated, but reposting it, on any site, is plagiarism.

Michael Myers

Feeding him by accident (sfw, oneshot)

Sunday roast (sfw, oneshot)

With s/o who likes being picked up (request, headcanons)

RZ Michael Myers x female therapist: New urge (heed warnings, oneshot, 18 +)

Wrapped with a ribbon (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Through lace curtains. (18 +, drabble)

Valentine's Day in Smiths Grove (sfw, oneshot)

Care for me, 18 +, heed the warnings for each chapter. part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5 (final)

Stargazing (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Untitled fluff (sfw, oneshot)

Shapes on his skin (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Floral and fading (smut, oneshot)

Priest! Michael Myers (RZ) 18 + heed warnings

Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x reader: Planetarium. (angst, comfort, sfw, oneshot)

Multi-chapter fic Vincent x OC x Bo/Poly Sinclairs. The Ambrose Summer Vacation. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. (ongoing, 18 +)

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader: art and comfort request.

Bo Sinclair x fem OC: Sweet treat. (18 +, oneshot)

Ambrose Boba Tea Shop AU Vincent/Mango boba; Lester/Black milk tea

Vincent x you/female reader x Bo Drabble

Thomas Hewitt

Letter by letter (sfw, oneshot)

Musings of Luda Mae (Sfw)

Kiss your boyfriend (dark, oneshot)

Safe with him (dark, spiritual sequel to Kiss Your Boyfriend, drabble)

The Grabber

Eggs for breakfast (request)

The Grabber x Max's girlfriend: The rhythm of life (heed warnings, one-shot).

Punishment (18 +, heed warnings, drabble)

Birthday headcanons

Male reader headcanons (request, sfw)

Request masochist reader (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Helpful people get rewarded (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Request for apprentice reader (sfw)

Divider by @/firefly-graphics