#Slashers as dads

[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.

[bella-goths-wife]

Paul not knowing how to take care of baby reader:

REAL

Love this

[bisexual-horror-fan]

This person is so fucking real.

[rzyraffek]

Platonic yandere yautja x child reader if u seen my pride um I recommend it the scene where cub nothing attacks a full grown lion but for this child reader was attacked while with a group of pups and was able to kill a xenomorph with a spear through the head

King i love you but please use punctuation😭

If I understood you correctly, you want dad yautja with kid who managed to kill xenomorph with other yautja pups? I hope I understand that right👽😊

I used y/n for kid cuz its easier to write that way, plus i used they/them!

Yautja dad with human kid (they whooped xenomorph)

First of all "WHERE WERE YOU, WITH WHO, WHY YOU BEEN OUTSIDE FOR SO LONG, I TOLD YOU NOT TO HANG OUT WITH OTHER PUPS SO MUCH, WHY DIDINT YOU TELL ME, I WAS SO WORRIED OMG" typical controlling/overprotective perent questions🥱

Dude litteraly banned them from going outside for good month or two

I mean yeah cool cool you- YOU WHAT??? YOU KILLED WHO? W- WHAT

Dude needs proof

But if he saw y/n with yautja pups acually killing that thing? Hes proud and dead at the same time. Like omg yay my baby killed something yay⭐but at the same time OH MY STARS YOU COULD DIE SO MANY TIMES

Hangs xeno head in middle of livingroom so everyone that walks in sees it😊 he is a proud dad

But it doesnt change the fact that you litteraly can't go outside without him around

He also kinda dislikes y/n friends??? Like "ugh really kid? You are hanging out with those bab troublesome pups? You know you can do better? Just stay with me"

Hes jelous and upset that first hunt kid had was with their friends, not him😭

Everytime you guys hang out with other yautjas he gives y/n's friends a death stare

Of course hes proud that his lil baby menaged to hunt down A FUCKING XENOMORPH, he will purr. The issue is that he cant help but imagine what could happen.

Heres little extra, i never write this type of stuff but im bored atm. Tw toxic behaviour?:

Y/n wanted to show off what they hunted with their friends, but the corpse too heavy to carry, so kid just goes to their home, walks up to their dad and tells him that they have gift for him but its outside. They grab his hand and lead him outside, he didnt expect few young yautjas poking dead xenomorph in his backyard for sure. He yells that they should stay away and he pulls put his weapon. He has so many questions all starting with "why", "how" and "when"???

After making sure that the thing is dead and his child didnt suffer any wounds he turns to other pups and starts scolding them, how dumb they are to bring a human pup on a hunt?? Dont they know how dangerous it is.

He would probably yell at them forever if not y/n stepping in and trying to explain that y/n was acually attacked and pups helped, yautjas wanted only good. He kinda didn't expect that, you? His own kid? Stepping in and protecting other people from him? He should be the one viewed as the one whos right and the one you always go for advice! So yeah he didnt take that well. Of course he tried to keep cool around those young hunters but o my god after they went away? Omg expect a lot of offended and angry dad behaviour, he gives them silent treatment for few days or is just simply passive agressive

After all y/n just wanted to feel like rest of their friends. And ironically enough the only one treating y/n like human is her own dad

[charliedawn]

Hey, I don't see any post saying requests are closed. Please correct me it I'm wrong, and I'll resend this ask when they're open :)

I saw one of your slasher posts about an new patient who was an omega and I've been wondering how a/b/o au slashers would react to a beta new patient who they saw as their own pup?(basically everyone is a father figure to this kid lol) I love platonic fluff and you're one of the few slasher writers who write platonic stuff and I love your writing, please stay hydrated and have a good day! :D

Here you go 😁 And thank you.

Freddy Krueger:

"You and I…we gonna be best buddies."

Freddy is a beta. Meaning: no real dominance or protective instincts.

He’d basically laugh his ass off while you run around and cause havoc or eat popcorn with Pennywise while they watch.

He’d train you in the ways of 'don’t give a toss' and 'get outta my way, bitch'.

Freddy would still protect you if he sees you in real danger, but he’d be the type of cool dad who just wants to chill and walk around in flip flops.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms would be a worry heart.

He’d worry 24/7 about you.

Have you eaten ? Have you drank ? Have you slept well ? Are you hurt ? Do you wanna play ?…

He’d cry his eyes out if he sees a scratch on you and whoever would dare cause you harm would end up beaten up.

Brahms is strong—even though he is an omega. He’d be the one to take care of you and make sure you’re perfectly safe.

Arthur Fleck:

Arthur would give you the best advice. He’s a beta—but used to be an omega. He’d have the heart without being overemotional about things.

"Don’t worry, things can look up. You just gotta wait and see."

"Be a doll and smile. Smiling will open up many doors for you."

"Do not listen to Freddy, sweetie. He is a bad influence. Matter-of-fact ? Do not listen to anyone else but me and Michael."

He would be your voice of reason in your darkest moments, but don’t ALWAYS listen to him because he is a patient for a reason…

Penny:

Overpossessive. Overprotective. Overthinking. Overdoing.

Penny would be the embodiment of "over-the-top". Doesn’t have any chill and would bite and scratch if anyone as much as looks at you the wrong way.

He can also read minds…which can be kind of a problem.

Penny *growls at a nurse* : "I DARE you to say what you want to say, coward."

He would also be very playful and play with you all day long. He’s got unending energy and would even put on shows for you.

Michael Myers:

Michael would be the only responsible one, as the Alpha of the slashers.

He’d make sure to never allow you near his knives or any sharp objects. He’d teach you self-defense. He’d also cook for you and teach you all of his skills (non-lethal)

He would also protect you but, would always use a weapon that won’t be too traumatic for your adorable self…like a baseball batt or a something else to just knock out the person who dared attack your person.

But Myers ? Myers would kill for you.

Myers has no parental instinct or remorse.

He kills because he can.

Father Paul Hill:

Father Paul—as a Beta—would protect you with his life. He always wanted to be a father and would immediately take you under his wing.

Comparing to other slashers, you could almost call him a pacifist. He would never start a fight. Never.

He would teach you and give you a proper education. He would also take care of you and give you the affection you need.

And if you get hurt ?

He’d protect you—no matter the cost.

Father Paul *covered in blood and crying* : "No…No no no…Not again. Please. Not again."

Patrick Bateman:

Patrick Bateman would teach you how to kill and get away with murder. He is a Beta himself, but always hated that title because he always saw himself as an Alpha.

He’d explain to you the human anatomy and how to chop off a body in the most efficient and effective way possible.

He would also teach you the ways of society and bureaucracy like no one else could. Patrick is very observant and dangerous. He has no empathy.

Meaning: Make sure he KEEPS liking you.

Patrick *looking at you and wondering if having a kid is worth it and how he’d do it to get rid of you before smiling and locking the thought into a very far away box at the back of his mind*

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an Omega. He would fight tooth and nail to protect you.

He’d also let you braid his hair and you’d draw together or do some fun artsy activities.

He’d show you how to do pottery and play with clay to make animal shapes or even human-like.

But, Vincent is in therapy and is being closely monitored and watched so he wouldn’t show you how to make wax people.

He would also be very affectionate with you and give you a lot of hugs, unlike Bo who would just pat your head and call it a day.

Jack Torrance:

"Let’s get takeout." Jack’s favourite sentence.

Jack would be a very lazy and chill kinda dad for a beta. He would take you to movies or read you a book.

He also loves food so…he’d get you pizza or nachos and you’d just settle on the couch with him and do nothing—just chilling.

He’d be the dad you go to when you don’t wanna do anything and you’re tired. He’d also be the type to live in his pajamas and tell you that it’s too early at 1pm.

You would then just sleep or he’d tell you things about his old life if he’s up for it.

He would protect you if you are in danger, but he would make sure that you don’t get into trouble in the first place cause you can’t do no wrong when you’re chilling all day…

[avocadoraisin]

Mini Michael.

Sequel to This because I clearly only make art that makes sense

[small-sinclair]

Dada

Bo Sinclair x mother fem!reader

@zaras-really-dreamless... you wanted some "Take me Instead" content, yeah? Well, it's not the next two parts, but I hope it quiches a thirst :3 . A dabble based off my Bo x preg!reader au. I promise I'll make a master list for this au and give it a name I swear--

"Can you say 'Bo'?" You asked in your mother voice, a smile on your face. "Come on, Jazzy, say 'Bo'!"

"Shouldn't encorage to hav' 'er say my name, darlin'," Bo said glancing over his shoulder. "Have 'er say 'mama' or somethin' like that." He started working on the car you and Todd came. "When did ya last get 'is thin' an oil change?"

You shrugged as you bounced Jasmine on your hip, smiling at her happily. "Todd always took care of that." You heard an audible sigh and the hood slamming. "Is it that bad, Bo?"

"Well, ain't gonna lie, darlin', but your car," he thumbed behind him and threw his rag, "is done. Never drive ‘at heep o’ shit again."

You lifted a brow before looking at Jasmine. "Well... that sucks, huh, Jazzy? There goes out escape plan," you joked. "Trapped here forever."

Bo shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'll have Lester bring the trailer down an' scrap it. Make more money than fixin' it." He placed a hand on his hip and fixed his hat. "Sorry, Mama, but it ain't drivin' no more." His eyes flickered down at Jasmine and watched her bright eyes looking back at him. "She seems lost."

"Jasmine’s just looking around, Bo," you answered, smiling. "She was always a wanderer just like my mother." You gave her an Eskimo kiss and smiled at her giggle. To Bo, it melted his heart. "She's just trying to figure the world out."

He takes a deep breath in and motioned you to follow him out. "Le'me close up an' we c'n get home-"

"Hello?" Your head snapped to the front door and saw young man walk in with two of his friends. "Anyone here?"

Bo gave you a look then led the way to the front of the shop. He puts on a fake smile and says, "Yeah, jus' caught me." He sounded cheerful when he said, "Was gonna close up soon."

"Would it trouble you to replace our spark plugs?" The man asked. "Me and my buddies have the slightest on what to do an--" his face was caught off when his green eyes landed on you. He straightens up and nods his head. "Ma'am," he said.

"Gentlemen," you replied. You stood between him and Bo before turning to look at Bo, saying, "I'll head up to the house and start dinner."

"I won't be long, sugar," Bo said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Promise."

They boys by the door parted and let you pass throw.

******************

Jasmine played on the floor with little horse stuffies while you cooked dinner. Bo dropped hints of cooking pot roast and green beans with potatoes. Besides, he’s been working hard in the shop the past couple of nights along with making sure you and Jasmine are fitting in well.

Ever since you started living freely with the Sinclair Brothers, you were left with the house keeping and cooking job. Thought it's not the best picture of how you wanted to spend your life, but you had the freedom to move around within the house and around the dead town. Though you were watched with careful eyes, the fear you had with them would fade over time. Yes, the murdering and blood shed scares you, but tried their best to keep that away from you and from Jasmine.

Living with the brothers felt like you were living in a strange home. Lester brought you along to the store for baby shopping, and he always stopped after the trip to get your drink order at Starbucks. Vincent was a natural at rocking Jasmine to sleep when you were busy, and he enjoyed feeding her when you were tired or needed to rest. Bo found himself looking over you and her as time went on, and you would wake up to him some times at night with him looking into the crib, his hand holding Jasmine's fingers. When you saw the high chairs and baby photos, you learned why they made sure to keep Jasmine happy, to keep her away from them, to keep loving on her until their hearts give out.

If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to burn Bo’s high chair.

When you asked Lester why it’s there, he shakes his head. “Bo doesn’t know how to heal,” he answered as he nodded to his brother working in the shop. “This is the only way he can.”

Even if he doesn't show it, you knew Bo was in love with Jasmine. Besides seeing him with her at night, you would catch some glances of him holding her on his hip while he shows her the inside of a car, telling her all about the engine of a '68 Dodge. He would call her little star, sunshine, lady bug, sweetheart-- you kept seeing the shine in his eyes when he was around her. Of course, things weren't always calm and sunshine, but he never yelled at her like Todd did. Never once has he called her dumb or stupid.

Maybe you agreeing to stay in this town was good for the three of you.

Humming to the radio by the stove, you started cooking the potatoes when he came home. You glanced over your shoulder to greet him but your face fell once you saw him limping in with his hand holding his thigh.

“What happened?” You asked as you met him in the hall, taking a towel and the first-aid. After being here for two months, you learned that it's best to keep the first-aid within reach.

“Got stabbed,” Bo hissed, breathing through his teeth. “One of ‘em got brave and headed towards the house, too.” He then looks at Jasmine, who still played with her toys. “He was gunnin’ fer ‘at lil’ one.”

“How do you know?”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Just knew. Didn’t lik’ the way he was lookin’ at ya an’ ‘er.” His drawl was heavier than normal. “Should’ve said nothin’, girl, an’ snuck out in the tunnels.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo grumbles to himself as he lets you tend to his leg. His eyes linger from you towards Jasmine. For a moment, the anger burning in his irises dimmed when Jasmine showed off her stuffed pink horse to him before playing again. Once her gaze was gone, his anger sparked again.

"Never do 'at again, woman," he warned, as he leaned back in the chair. "Men are dangerous 'round children."

"Are you dangerous?" He didn't mean to ask him, but as soon as those words left, he glared at you. "Sorry."

"I'll let it pass just once," he murmurs, "but don' say 'at shit again."

Bo leans back and closes his eyes, taping his fingers on the arm rest. As he felt the pain start to fade, his eyes linger over Jasmine as she plays with her horse. His relaxed his shoulders against the wood and watched her little horse wiggle in the air as of it was flying, grinning slightly at her movements.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say as you came back with water and two pain killers. "Just cooking the potatoes now."

"Yeah?" He asked, lifting a brow. He takes the pills and gulps down the water. "That's awful kind 'o ya."

As you two started talking about dinner, Jasmine sat and watched the both of you with curious eyes. She uses the couch to help her stand, dropping her horse, and pulled herself up. Once she was standing up, she takes shaky steps forward, her mind competly forgettign the horse under her feet. Tripping, she falls down, looks around, and opens her mouth, crying loudly.

Bo jolted as he heard her started to cry. He watched you scoop up your child and kisses her head as you tried to calm her. Her little hands reached out towards Bo, bright eyes burning through tears as she cried out, "Dada!"

It's like time froze and the world stopped spinning. Bo's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at Jasmine. "What... what did she just--"

"Dada!” Her little hands reached for him, tearfully crying out, “Bo!”

Just like that, Bo's heart shattered in two million pieces. Her little hands reached for him still as she wiggling in your grasp. With his hands still bloodied, Bo opened his arms and nodded at you, reassuring that it's okay for you to leave him, but you can't... not while he's covered in someone else's blood.

Though the pain was still there, Bo moved quickly from the den to the kitchen. He scrubbed and washed up as best as he could, took off his work uniform shirt and tossed it aside, and dried off as well as he could. He heard the basement door opening and Vincent entering from downstairs.

Before Bo could fill him in, Jasmine cried out, "Bo! Dada!"

Vincent felt his stomach drop as he looked at you and Jasmine. His lone eye looks back at Bo and pointed, eye wide in shock, signing, 'Did she just say your name? Or am I really dehydrated?'

"Ya heard right," Bo breathed. He limps away from Vincent and headed back into the living room. He held out his hands, motioning that he was reader, and you gave her to Bo.

This was his first time holding her since the day he got you away from Todd. Truly holding her close, not like when he has her on his hip while working on a car.

As soon as you place her in his arms, something clicked in his brain. The way she looked at her with tearful eyes and her hands reached for him to hug, Bo’s world rocked. He heldJasmine so close and protectively as he rocked back and forth, hushing her gently. Feeling her again in his arms felt almost right, but he’s not her dad. He’ll be a good enough father, he knows, but…

“You’re okay, star shine,” he whispered as he felt her calming. “Ya just bummed yer knee. Nothin’ to cry about.” He walked away from you as he paced in the other room with the pool table. He nodded at you to take care of the food while he takes care of Jasmine. “Yer okay. You’ll be alright.”

“Dada,” she whines as her little hands gripped his shirt. “Bo.”

How fast can a heart shatter and build up again? Is there a study out there that could answer Bo’s question?

He rested her head against his heart as he took shaky breaths. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. “Shh, star shine,” he whispers. “Rest ‘at lil’ head. I’m here. Bo’ll always be here.”

From the kitchen, Vincent started the potatoes and had you watch from the doorway. Were you in love with him, or did you just see him as a father figure? As much as you tried an answer, you couldn’t make since of it yet. Todd was her dad, but any boy can be a dad. Bo was a man; he was a better father than Todd. You just can’t tell him yet.

So, you watched as Bo swayed back and forth with Jasmine in his arms, murmuring a song only for her to hear. Slowly, he leaned against the pool table. His eyes was filled with so much warmth and carefulness when he looked down at Jasmine. You had to admit he knew what he was doing, and Jasmine fell asleep right away in his arms. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. The walls that he built and the lies he believed fell so fast to let her in.

Dada. Bo.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sigh escaped. He’ll kill a thousand men just to keep Jasmine safe, to keep you happy and well, to keep what lever type of… family? Relationship? What is the best word to say? But he looked down at Jasmine as if she was his own, and a grin formed. Bo will fight off every and any monster that dare comes near his home.

***********

Later that night, you woke to the sound of your bedroom door opening and feet shuffling across the floor. Turning, you found Bo in sleeping pants, shirtless, and holding Jasmine in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder as he swayed slightly back and forth with his eyes closed. You heard him hum a lullaby low and soft just for her. When his eyes parted, he made eyes contact with you, smiled, and laid her back down ever so slowly and gently.

Bo turned his heels and tucked you back in. “Rest, Mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.” Then Bo turned and left the room, closing the door silently.

What a beautiful mess that’s unraveling right in front of you.

[wh01sstanl3y]

My boys

[eerie-candid]

Pt 2 of Trapper being a parent

[backscratches]

'Hey, Sweetheart' part 1

The Sinclair brothers x F!child!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of death, yelling, plans of killing, Slashers, obsession

|next part|

That morning Bo had been woken up by his younger brother, Lester. It had been a call to him about the tourists he saw heading down the road to a campside. One car, couple of people, an easy job.

Bo and Vincent hadn't had tourists in the town in a awhile so the preparations weren't hard. Later that day, at the night exactly. Bo went and blew their tires. He made sure that Lester was ready to escort the couple to the town the next day.

The next day Bo was fixing a car in his garage when a couple walked up to him. They looked like a normal married couple, nothing more to him anyway. But one thing caught his eye. The woman was carrying a baby on her back.

"Hey folks what can I do for yall?" Bo asked trying to be polite. The man told him that they needed couple of tires for their car down the road and that they were in a hurry.

Bo couldn't care less about their plans to see the socker game in the next state or anything else about them. So he directed the woman with her baby up to see the famous Trudy's House Of Wax while he and the husband looked at some tires.

He didn't know what was he hoping to be done with the babe but there was no plans of keeping it either. There had been children passing through the town before but evedently there wasn't any kid wax figures.

After Bo had killed the man with a hit to the head he dragged the body downstairs to the basement of the garage and left to go up to the museum.

Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted Vincent to take care of the problem, that being the baby tourist, so he didn't have to worry about it.

But as he soon found out, Vincent wasn't just as attracted to the idea of getting rid of the little specimen. After he had killed the woman Vincent took the crying baby to his basement.

And that was what Bo had walked in on. Sweaty Vincent holding a crying baby girl in the middle of his work space.

"What the hell are you doing with that thing?" Bo asked loudly bewildered. Vincent only turned for a moment to look at him and then turned immediately back to the now fussing baby in his dry hands.

"Don't ignore me freak what the fuck are you doing with it?" Bo shouted at his twin brother or rather to his back.

"Be Quiet" Vincent whispered in his rough voice. He was observing the baby, holding her Infront of his face but after speaking to Bo he quickly moved the babe to his chest.

Holding the baby in his arms, Vincent began to slowly swing her in hopes of her falling asleep.

"The hell are you planning?" Bo asked angerly but alot quieter now.

The babygirl soon fell into a soft sleep in Vincent's hold.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of Vincent quietly cuddling to the babe, a moment of Bo trying to figure his brother out.

"I want her"

The few words that Vincent could muster with his broken face were enough for to Bo to shutdown.

He didn't want this, he wasn't ready for this and Ambrose sure wasn't a place for this.

Only if he knew how much his brother desperately wanted his own family. But his disformated face had quickly put a brick wall Infront of that dream. That hole he wished so badly to fill, that couldn't be treated even with his lovely good girl dog, Jonesy or a hundred wax figures across the town.

This beautiful baby was the most incredible thing he had ever witness even, his mothers world known wax figures couldn't bare fitness to the feeling this babe brought to him.

And nobody was going to take that away from him. Not even his twin brother.

this is my first fanfic I've ever written so yeah tell me your opinion

I will continue this series for at least a couple of parts

Please like

English isn't my first language tell me of any mistakes

[xxtodl]

My dad said that saws gore was just gore for gore sake and i was like no! You don't get the deep thematic elements and lessons that come from these films! The gore accentuates the themes!

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a (teenage) reader.

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

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART TWO. Hurt/comfort addition.

Folks who wanted to be tagged. @hope4rain19, @minaxcarter, @brooke-stinson, @urminebutidontwantyou, @gaipplrhot, @gyarukitti, @raphydude, @thelxapeia, @ant1d3pre55ant5add1ct, @decentsoupperson, @kawaistrawberry21.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy sighed as he stomped to your room in search of his laptop. You had been in such a rush this morning to get to school that you had accidentally left it in there. And while he always respected your wishes for him to never enter your room, he really needed his laptop. Sacrifices need be made some times.

However, as Freddy wandered into your room, he was met with a sight that literally stole his breath. Your bed was completely littered with folders and painted canvas boards. There was a large portfolio bag laying on the ground with its contents scattered everywhere. Painting and drawing utensils alike sat scattered over a table with a still wet painting taped atop.

Eyes ridiculously wide, Freddy looked around and deeply observed the area. He didn't know you owned any of this stuff. Paintings, oil canvases, drawings and sketches, and all of them were yours. And each piece looked really, really good. Freddy couldn't believe what was happening right now.

He thought you gave up on art.

Delicately picking up multiple art pieces, a happiness and sense of pride rushed through Freddy's heart, and he found himself grinning big in a mixture of relief and utter joy. You still loved art, and you were so good at it. He hadn't destroyed your passion after all. That being said though... Why would you hide this from him?

Later that day when you came home, Freddy asked you to go to the kitchen. When you went inside, you froze right on the spot. There, scattered all across the kitchen table, were multiple art projects of yours.

"Dad..." You choked, your heart racing in fear, your words stolen from you, "I..."

"I needed my laptop and uh... Accidentally found these," Freddy explained, a happy smile covering his face as he went to grab your shoulders, "Sweetie, why would you hide this from-"

"I told you not to go in there." You almost shouted, tears blurring your eyes as you pulled away from him.

"Sweetie," Freddy took a step back, hurt by your defensive attitude.

You went to the table and quickly began to gather up your art work. Freddy chased after you to try and get you to stop, "No, stop it. Don't do that- just-just wait a sec, I-"

"I get it, dad, you hate it. You've always hated my art. You-just... J-just leave me alone. Don't touch it, ok," You avoided eye contact while scurrying to protect your work, "I'll put it away."

"No, that's not what I want. (y/n). (y/n), will you please look at me. Hey," Freddy placed a hand on your shoulder and kept you from stomping off, "(y/n), look at me."

With a tense body and watery eyes, you looked at him, art work clutched to your chest and a glare covering your face.

Freddy sighed and said in earnest, "That's not what I want. Your art, I love it. I think it's beautiful an-and amazing! I-I mean, all this time? Really? I thought you gave up on it, I... I thought that I..."

Relaxing, you lowered your arms and looked him straight in the eyes. It felt like your heart had just done a summersault in your chest. "You... You mean it? You... You really like my art?"

"I love it!" Freddy exclaimed almost too quickly, "I love it so much, you have no idea. You have no idea how happy this makes me, (y/n). I thought that I ruined art for you. I... I never stopped feeling guilty about what I did. And I always hoped that one day you would start again, but..."

"Dad," You bit your lip hard in an attempt not to cry. He cared. He actually cared, and he loved your art. He was happy for you.

"Here," Freddy went to grab an old folder off the table.

Suspicious, you set down your art and went to take the folder. When you opened it, you saw dozens of old, un-crumpled papers with very distinct, familiar drawings on them. It took a minute, but you soon realized that these were the very drawings you had thrown away when you were little.

"You... Kept them?" You gaped at your dad, your heart aching in a happy/sad way.

"Of course I did," Freddy's smile wobbled a bit, "I love you and I love everything you do, and I'm so, so sorry for making you feel bad, f-for making you feel like you had to hide this from me."

Lowering the folder, you felt your lips wobble as your heart clenched in great happiness and relief. All this time you believed your dad hated your passion. He had hurt you so badly, but he regretted it. He had always regretted it, and he loved your work.

In a desperate attempt to hide your tears, you rush up to your dad and give him a big hug. Freddy held you as tightly as he could, his arms fierce and protective as he said, "Don't ever give up on your art, (y/n). No matter what, please. I love you so much."

Michael Myers

Michael had wandered out of the garage a few minutes after your friend's dad dropped you off. "Me and (friend's name) are gonna grab a snack real quick, k dad?" You had hollered while rushing into the house.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Michael approached the other man who casually got out of the car. He was grinning big at you and his own kid, seemingly proud and full of joy. "My god, man," He said mindlessly, smiling at Michael, "I tell ya, that was one hell of a game today. Whoo, and (y/n)? My god, they were great."

Puzzled and confused, Michael could only tilt his head in wonder. Game? What game?

The man shook his head and gave Michael an even more puzzled look than he himself sported, "Hey, how come I never see you at any of their games? Rough job or something?"

Michael's silence and confused expression urged the man to explain more.

"You know, the (sport) game? Just had one today- what a show I tell ya. But, I just- I never see you there, you know?"

At that, Michael's eyes went unspeakably wide. (sport)? You were playing (sport)? What? For how long? Why didn't he know about this? He thought you quit playing that when you were little. What was going on?

A week later and Michael was sitting amongst the crowd that was watching your (sport) game. You didn't know he was there. You didn't even know that he knew all your secrets like the fact that you had been playing (sport) for years, how you had won two trophies, the fact that this is where you spent most of your time at, and so on and so forth.

While watching the game, Michael couldn't help but to feel a deep sense of pride, relief and great joy at seeing how passionately you played and how much fun you were having. And you were so talented at it. The other team didn't stand a chance. You had grown so much since you were little. To this day his own actions still haunted him.

He hurt you. He 'scarred' you. And, although you continued doing what you loved, you had still felt the need to hide it from him, for years. He did that. He had made you feel so anxious and insecure that you felt the need to hide your greatest passion from him.

What kind of father does that to their child?

Unsurprisingly, your team won the game, and Michael couldn't be more proud or excited. Once the crowd and commotion calmed down, he patiently waited on you to exit the changing rooms. The way you hid yourself...

Michael gazed around at all the happy families congratulating and/or comforting their kids. It crushed his heart thinking about the sheer loneliness you expressed after the game ended and you had no one to celebrate with aside from your team mates.

When you came out of the changing room, Michael straightened his posture and faced you. It took you a minute, but eventually you looked up, saw him, and froze. A gasp escaped your mouth while your backpack fell from your shoulder to your shaken hand.

Michael's chest ached at the sight of your frightened, horrified face as you frantically looked around as if for an escape. Quickly he approached you and said in sign language, "That was a good game."

"Dad," You stepped away from him, panicked, "I-it's not what you think-I... I-I was just-I'm..."

You were scared, Michael realized, guilt beating on him like a hundred hammers. He waved his hand at you to get your attention, "Why didn't you tell me you were playing (sport)?"

"I..." You stare at him in great panic that melted into sadness and fear. You dropped your backpack and covered your face, saying brokenly, "I'm sorry, dad. I... I didn't mean to. Don't be mad, please, I-I... I'll stop playing it."

What? Micheal rushed to you and went to gently pull your hands away from your flushed face. What had he done? "No, I'm not mad. Please stop panicking. I'm not mad. Not at all."

Confused, you look at him through tear colored vision.

"I just found out you were playing (sport). You even have trophies. (y/n), why did you keep this from me?"

"Because," You winced, "You said I wasn't good at it. You... You hate me for it. I... I just wanted to be happy. I... I didn't mean to..."

He couldn't believe how upset you were, and all because he found out that you were doing what you loved. Marching up to you, Michael pulled you into a big hug that lasted for several minutes. When he noticed you calm down, he moved back a bit and explained.

"I was an idiot back then. I never should have said those things to you, (y/n). I've always felt bad for how I made you feel. You're not bad at (sport) and I never wanted you to stop playing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I made you feel this way."

You were shocked speechless, so Michael pulled you into another hug. You hugged back, relieved. He wasn't mad at you. He apologized. Everything was going to be alright.

Bo Sinclair

Bo lived in a very, very small town. Everyone knew each other and every piece of information that existed on the surface. Rumors spread and gossip filled the air like pollen. So it didn't take very long for Bo to learn that you had been practicing engineering with the car shop just down the road.

At first Bo had been ecstatic. You were still interested in engineering? He thought you didn't want to do that anymore; you said so yourself. Ever since the incident when you were little, you hadn't helped him with anything physically constructive- not even stuff as simple as hanging a picture on the wall.

Pretty much everyone praised you and said that you were doing a tremendous job. Your skill towards fixing vehicles was a natural, golden talent. You were an impressive, fast learner and everyone loved and appreciated you.

But when Bo tried to approach you about this exciting news, he was confused to hear you deny all of it. You shut his exclamations off and said that the towns people were lying. You claimed to have nothing to do with engineering. Yes, you hung around the car shop, but nothing was going on, you were just bored.

Bo didn't understand it. Why would you lie to him about this? He knew that the towns people weren't making this up- just ask the guy who took a picture of you and your buddies covered in grease while working on a truck engine. You looked so happy. Why was that something to lie about?

For the life of him, Bo could not figure out what was going on with you. Obviously you were lying to him, but he couldn't get you to explain why. It was as if you were completely and utterly avoiding him now, and it was driving him crazy.

So Bo reached out for help.

"Well," Your engineering teacher said in a tense tone, "I talked to em an' they said it's 'cause they don't wanna make ya mad."

"Huh?" Bo shook his head in exaggeration. What did that even mean?

Your teacher gave him a wearisome look, "I think they're afraid you're gonna blow a gasket on em if they do somethin' wrong. I take it that... you got a short temp?"

At that question, Bo was immediately rushed with memories of the past, and he found himself feeling overwhelmed with guilt and dread. That time he got mad at you when you were little, you didn't just give up on engineering. You gave up on everything that had to do with him. Was this why? Because you were afraid that he would get mad at you if you messed up or made a mistake?

You were afraid of his temper.

Coming to realization, Bo spent quite a while trying to figure out how he should approach you. He wasn't the best at emotions or having deep conversations. If he tried to explain himself he feared he would just say something stupid and cause you to be more upset with him.

So he waited for the perfect moment.

A couple weeks later, Bo dragged you to his shop to show you something that caused your mouth to fall open in awe. "Ram 3500, 2018. An' look at'er license plate."

Gasping the name of the state the enormous truck was from, you faced your dad with absolute excitement and disbelief, "Why's it here?"

"Ah, a little transmission trouble on the road," Bo smiled and slung an arm around your shoulder, "Nice huh? She's a beauty. Needs lotta' work, fast, an' I want 'you' to help me."

"What?" Your behavior changed drastically, "Dad-"

"Look, I've already heard all the gossip. I've seen ya work at the shop. I know you know what you're doin', (y/n)," Bo went to stand in front of you. "But what I don't understand is why ya don't wanna work with me."

"It's not... I just..." You sighed and looked at the ground, lost on what to say. A pain filled your chest as you admitted quietly, "I ain't perfect, dad, I... I make mistakes."

"And?" Bo pushed for a better answer.

His impatience and lack of understanding made you snap, "An' you can't handle that. Every time I mess up even the tiniest bit, you get mad at me. What do you expect me to do, huh? I'm only (age)."

Going silent, Bo relaxed upon learning what exactly your insecurity was. You were avoiding him because you were afraid of him getting mad at you for making mistakes. He did this. He put this fear in you, made you this way. And because of that, you were both teetering on the edge of complete life separation.

"(y/n)," Bo reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Your entire body froze.

"I... never meant to make ya feel this way. I know ya ain't perfect. You're still learnin' an' you've got a long ways to go, but... I wanna be there for you, (y/n). I wanna help you. I wanna watch ya grow, an' I can't do that if ya ain't around... I'm better than I used to be. So if you mess up, I ain't gettin' mad. I'm helping you, because that's what fathers do."

Shot by your dad's moving words, you find yourself staring at him for a long moment before a large smile bloomed across your face. "Right dad," You say, "Let's take a look at her."

With his heart skipping over the moon, Bo grinned and thanked the very stars themselves for this moment, and he lead you to your first shared project since you were a mere, little kid.

Hannibal Lecter

One night Hannibal got bored and lonely and decided to go to Will's house which was where you liked to spend lots of time at. He didn't mind you staying with Will, but some times he himself felt a little bit left out.

When he arrived at Will's house, he quietly made way up the stairs of the porch and temporarily paused just outside of the window. Casually peeking in, Hannibal spotted Will sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper while you stood in front of the stove in the kitchen. Your sleeves were clumsily rolled up and you had a apron on.

The motions of your arms and the state of the kitchen did not lie. You were cooking. You were quite literally cooking food right in front of him. Hannibal couldn't help but to release a small shudder of mixed emotions. It had been years since he last saw you cook- years since he demolished your feelings and forced you away from the passion you both once shared.

To see you cooking now? It made Hannibal erupt with questions and emotions. How long had this been going on? What were you cooking? Why were you cooking? How come he didn't know? Were you happy? Was this why you always spent so much time with Will?

Speaking oh whom, Hannibal watched as you handed out a spoon to which Will stood up to receive. Taking a taste of the spoon, Will made a bright face and reached out for a container of spice. You smiled, laughed and nodded, happily going to add some of the recommended spice to your dish.

Grinning, Hannibal couldn't help but to feel great pride. So, you could handle personal opinions and constructive criticism? What an astounding chef you turned out to be, and you looked so happy too.

Regaining his composure, Hannibal straightened his hair and went to knock on the door.

It took over five minutes for Will to answer.

By that time, things had grown to be rather chaotic. Now only did Will claim that you had gone to bed, but that he also was the one responsible for the late night meal.

Hannibal knew better though.

Whilst you pretended to sleep in the guest bedroom, Will and Hannibal stood in the kitchen gazing around at all your hard work.

"They told me what happened when they were little," Will said, a disappointed look on his face, "How could you say that to them, doc?"

Hannibal stared down at your unfinished dish, his heart clenching in memory of the past. "I spoke out of impulse. I didn't mean to cause them this much insecurity." To think you would go out of your way to lie to him. "How long has this affair been going on?"

"I don't know. Few years?" Will shrugged, "I was cooking macaroni one day, they asked to help and... The ship set sail, I guess."

"You reignited their flame," Hannibal huffed and smiled, "I'm grateful."

"Ever thought about apologizing?" Will asked.

"I have," Hannibal said softly, "However, they refuse to have anything to do with cooking."

"You told them that they were a horrible cook and a waste of time in the kitchen. What did you expect would happen?"

Hannibal bowed his head in shame. He hurt you, more than he had ever imagined. After all these years he believed that you had moved on and found different passions, but instead you clung to cooking and desperately sought hiding it from him because of fear. What kind of father was he to do that to you?

The next morning after the drive home, Hannibal kept you in the car to say, "(y/n). I know it was you who cooked at Wills the other night. I saw."

Having been dreading this exact conversation, you flushed darkly and turned your head away in great shame, sadness and fear. "I'm sorry."

"Please do not apologize," Hannibal cursed at himself for how anxious he made you feel, "I am more grateful than you could ever know."

That stirred a confused reaction from you.

"(y/n), you do not have to accept my apology, but I want you to promise me that you will continue to do what you enjoy, especially if it is cooking." Hannibal looked to you hopefully. "Seeing how happy you were... You have no idea how much joy it brought me. I thought I had destroyed your passion, but..."

Now completely facing your dad, your mouth was agape and your heart pounding furiously with emotions.

"I've always regretted what I said to you that day. It was rude and improper, and most certainly untrue. You are an astounding cook and I'm proud of you. I'm sorry that I hurt you, but, even if you do not wish to forgive me, I hope that you will always continue to do what you love."

Looking at your dad with watery eyes, you blinked and fought for the right words to respond with. All these years you had been terrified of your dad's wrath and disapproval when it came to cooking. He was right, he did hurt you, and the pain was still lingering inside you.

Even though what he said now brought you some form of relief and comfort, you couldn't help but to still feel a little bit of lingering hurt. "I... I need time." You reply quietly.

Hannibal nodded in understanding, "And time you shall have. I will always be here to support you."

-

If I made a part three, it could be about the reader still suffering some anxiety while doing their passion around their dad. And the slasher dads' will be nothing but happy, supportive and proud. You know, just casual comfort and fluff.

[bella-goths-wife]

“This is probably a bad idea, but so worth it”

Dimitri x lost boys daughter

Warnings: sexual tension, porn with barely any plot, smut, cunnilingus, blood play, biting in a vampire way, slight pain kink, clit biting (barely and gently), possessiveness, humiliation, mentions of daddy issues, mocking use of the title ‘daddy’, sex on a bar, semi public sex, probs cringe but we move on

For many nights now, you and Dimitri had found yourselves working late together at the bar. Though in vampire terms working late just means working through the night and until midday, where the rest of dimitri’s clan had gone to their homes and hidden away before the sun could reveal itself and damage their sensitive skin.

At first, working late was just a ploy to get overtime since yours and Michaels rent had doubled and his and your job was barely covering it.

But now, now working late wasn’t a ploy but a distraction.

Something about the way Dimitri handled you, it was both foreign and familiar all at once. It had hints and notes of your past relationships but with a new sense of adventure and freedom to it.

With faith, you were protective of her as you battled with your fathers and society in defence of her and the love the two of you shared.

With James, you were the protected as he kept you safe from the outside and from yourself. He’d shield your eyes from the unpleasantness of your life and would offer distractions to you in order to avoid your self destructive tendencies.

With Dimitri, you feel almost like equals.

Logistically you understand that it’s impossible for you to be equals, he was a centuries old vampire who could crush you within moments and you were just a human girl, a smart human, but still a human.

But he never particularly used his vast power to show his superiority like your fathers had, despite the first two times he used his power being to harm you, he now went out of his way to almost humanise his mannerisms as if to show his lack of intent to harm you.

He never spoke down to you, never made you feel stupid despite your age differences and your lack of knowledge on the world outside of Santa Carla.

But while you appreciated the equality of the dynamic, a part of you wanted to tip the scales in his favour. Wanted him to talk to you low tones in an almost condescending manner while you look up at him with big eyes filled with admiration and wanting. You wanted to be treated like his plaything if only for a moment.

The late shifts also made you look at him more carefully. You always knew him to be conventionally attractive, but had you paid closer attention to him you would have come to appreciate his dark eyes and his butterfly inducing smirk much sooner.

The same smirk he gives you in this very moment as he drys his freshly cleaned glasses and you lean against the bar and watch him.

“What does blood taste like?” Was the question that you had asked that had induced said smirk, curiosity and boredom had taken over your mind at this point and you felt adventurous enough to ask

“Why?” He had asked in return with his stupidly attractive smirk “thinking of switching to the supernatural side?”

“No” you reply with a scoff “just curious, vampires don’t just kill for sustenance so there must be something other than hunger that drives their choices to eat from certain people”

“You have a point there, though it could just be explained away with some vampires being sadistic” dimitri says calmly “but you are partially right, the taste of blood does depend on the person”

“How?” You ask curiously with a cocked brow

“Different flavourings, different scents, different blood types, they’re all different” he explains as he continues to clean his glasses “some are sweeter, some are bitter, some are more salty, every person different”

“So you can know how someone’s blood tastes from their scent?” You ask curiously

“Not particularly, there are outside sources that can impact your scent” Dimitri says with a shrug “yours is sweet, but there’s a bitterness to the edge of it because of the cigarettes you smoke”

“You’ve smelled me?” You say with a slight shock inflicted tone

“Kinda hard not to when I’m always next to you” Dimitri answers playfully with a smirk “your permanently stuck in my senses”

“What do I smell like?” You ask curiously wit an almost eager expression

“Like warm vanilla and caramel but with an edge of bitterness from the smoking” he answers calmly, finally stopping his task at hand to pay attention to you and your curious mind

“So my blood would taste like that?” You assume with a guessing expression

“Well I’d have to taste your blood to know that, little bird” he points out with a teasing smile

“Okay” you say without hesitation

There is a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other and you process the decision you had just made.

You look away in slight humiliation as he fails to respond, turning your head to look at the door instead

“Sorry, that was stupid” you say quietly

“No, it wasn’t” Dimitri responds quickly as his fingertips gently redirect your gaze back on to him “I just dont think you know what your offering”

“I know what I’m offering Dimitri” you say with new found determination “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“It will hurt” dimitri says apprehensively “I could make you uncomfortable, or scared”

“I trust you, Dimitri” you declare with a gentle tone you hadn’t used in a while as you put your hand on his cheek “I know what I’m offering”

“Okay, little bird” he says with a nod as he places his hand over yours and pulls you closer so that he can place a kiss to your pulse point “if your sure”

You nod and he kisses your wrist once more before his teeth expanded and began to bite into your wrist.

You let out a small gasp of pain which had his eyes widening and hesitation to spreading across his face, but you reassured him by running a hand through his long black hair.

It was a new sensation, to be drained. You expected it to feel like agony and while there was a considerable amount of pain as you felt blood leaving your body, there was also a small amount of arousal that came with the experience.

The combination of pain, intimacy and eye contact from Dimitri’s delicately dark eyes had your panties becoming wetter with every moment, an affect that surely Dimitri could smell by the moan he lets out against your bleeding wrist.

He pulls away after a few moments, still holding your wrist as his long tongue licks up any blood drops from the puncture wounds.

“So” you say almost breathlessly “how do I taste?”

Dimitri hums against your wrist with a smirk as he begins to press his lips against your arm in a forward motion

“You taste….” He says in a low tone as he leave a trail of your blood through his kisses on your arm as he reaches your neck and whispers in your ear “exquisite”

“Really?” You ask quietly as your eyes close and you enjoy the feeling of his lips on your neck

“Like warm vanilla and caramel” he speaks lowly as he bites your neck gently, fangs not penetrating your skin this time “like a fine delicacy waiting to be devoured”

He finally reaches your jaw with his kisses before pulling away and looking down at you once again, almost like he was scanning for your reaction.

You don’t let him contemplate asking you if you were okay as you reach up and pull his head down to smash your lips against his.

He follows in suite as he kisses you back with the same amount of ferocity. Your teeth and tongues clashing messily in this dance of passion.

He took it a step further as he pulls you closer and holds the back of your thighs in almost an attempt to ask permission.

You don’t break the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to hoist you up by the back of your thighs and place you on the bar with no effort, his supernatural strength being used as a tool to only arouse you further.

He slots himself between your legs while keeping his hands on your upper thighs, still kissing you passionately as your hands pull him closer by his shoulders.

After a few more moments of kissing you, he pulls away slightly and leans his forehead against yours and watches you pant.

“I want to taste more of you” he says lowly as he nuzzles nose against yours “is that okay, little bird”

You nod your head but your only granted tutting in return

“Words, little bird” he reprimands gently “tell me what you want”

“I want you to touch me” you say quietly with a yearning tone

He nods as his hands reach under your skirt and begin to pull your soaked panties off. You lift yourself slightly to help him as you watch him remove your panties and slip them into his trouser pocket.

You’re about to protest but it dies down in your throat as you feel him flip up your skirt and begin to kiss up your thighs. Going from your knee to your inner thigh and only sparing a small kiss to just above your clit that had you squirming before repeating the same process with your other leg.

“Please” you say with a quiet desperation which has his eyes shooting up to look at you “please”

“What would your fathers say if they saw you now?” He asked with a teasing tone as he let his fangs graze your inner thigh “seeing that they failed you so much that you’re begging a dangerous man centuries older than you to touch you?”

“I don’t care what they think” you say quietly with blush coating your face “please, just touch me”

“Maybe I should have you call me daddy instead” dimitri says teasingly with a wide smirk

You roll your eyes and you’re about to snark him back when he leans down and spreads your thighs wider before kitten licking your clit gently. All arguments fade from your mind as your hips buck to meet that pleasure again, eliciting a small chuckle from Dimitri.

He swirls his tongue around your clit tantalisingly in small circles that had you panting.

He continues to break you down slowly for a few moments before extending his tongue and giving your pussy a deep stroke of his tongue from your twitching hole to your swollen bud that he takes into his mouth and sucks harshly.

The movement has you crying out and your hand tangling itself in his hair as you guide his head gently, griping his long black hair into a makeshift ponytail in your palm.

As your moans grow louder, your gaze is locked on the still unlocked door of the bar. Anyone could walk in on you, anyone could see you in the scandalous position of being pleasured so desperately by the man whose head takes up residency between your thighs.

As of sensing your lack of attention, Dimitri doubles down on his efforts by removing one of his hands from your waist before playing with your clit in a hypnotising manner as his tongue reaches deep inside you and presses against your sensitive walls.

“Fuck” you cry out with tears blurring your vision and your grip in his hair tightening “please don’t stop”

“Every part of you tasted exquisite” he speaks into you as he nibbles on your pearl gently, letting his fangs graze the swollen bud teasingly “like the forbidden fruit of the gardens of Eden”

Your thighs squeeze against his head as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach tightening, letting out desperate cries as you feel your peak approaching

“Give it to me, little bird” dimitri demands in a low tone as he thumbs at your pearl and his tongue enters you once again “give me what’s mine, show me your mine”

You feel your release soak his face as your jaw goes slack and you pant and cry, thighs squeezing his head so tight that you would wager a guess that without his supernatural strength he would have been in pain by now.

You’re seeing stars by the time he comes back up to your level and kisses you gently, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“This is probably a bad idea” you point out the obvious breathlessly as your thumb brushes against his lips to wipe away your essence

“But it’s so worth it” he whispers back as he takes your hand and licks your essence off your thumb with a low groan

This is going to piss a lot of people off, is your last thought as Dimitri carries you up to his room above the bar and prepares you for a night of stupid but pleasurable decisions.

[vashti-refused]

Incorrect Saw Quotes: American Dad (3/?)

[wyervan]

Wait if they’re gen X isn’t that like 40’s/50’s dang these guys are older than they look.

lol TODAY, in 2024, they would be in their 40s or 50s. Within the AU tho, which takes place sometime between 2000 and 2010, (sorry I realized now that I just said 2000s in the previous ask—kinda vague) they’re in their late 20s to early 30s.

So if they were born in 1975, they’d be 30 in 2005.

Hopefully this clears it up 😂.

[msookyspooky]

Stu is definitely the guy to rock the ferris wheel cart with a grin on his face when your stopped at the tippy top and Billy is hanging on for dear life yelling at him and 100% gonna beat his ass as soon as their off the ride.