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venus-haze · 2 years ago

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Who's Sorry Now (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: After nearly a year of being under Bo’s thumb in Ambrose, he’s decided it’s time you get involved in the family business. You never expected to make it this far, and when you finally come face to face with (victims) tourists in town as part of the act, you think it more of a curse than a blessing. Look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this.

Note: This is mostly a (extremely gross) standalone fic, with some references to events in Howl and Adam Raised a Cain, but it can be read on its own. I took some creative liberties with Trudy's casket again. Inspired by the Connie Francis song. Reader is a woman, but no other descriptors are used. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of murder and violence. Descriptions of violence involving weapons. Disturbing and sadistic behavior. Misogyny. Physical abuse, emotional and psychological manipulation, major Stockholm syndrome. Sexually explicit content which involves coercion/dubious consent, slapping, degradation, cigarette burns, licking water and cum off of a dirty floor (sorry). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Summer raged angry in Ambrose, its unforgiving heat leaving you drenched by the late nightfall, when you’d sit in the passenger seat of Bo’s truck, head hanging out the window as you took in the rush of cool night air. Sometimes he’d take a long way back up to the house, just to indulge this one quirk of yours, despite the fully air-conditioned home that sat atop a hill. Even Vincent struggled in the heat, emerging from his studio dripping in sweat when he actually went down there. Instead, he opted on moving from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned house, checking on each of the wax sculptures that resided in Ambrose.

It was cooler out when you and your friends had arrived in town, hopeful and unsuspecting, making it not quite a year since Bo tangled you into this tapestry of wax, murder, and violence that had been woven since before you were born. Your few freedoms were hard fought, your body and mind littered with scars of what you’d been through at his hands.

Still, you hadn’t quite proven yourself to Bo yet. He’d leave you to work on a grueling yet mundane task he’d given you, but you wouldn’t run even if you had the chance. You felt far too guilty and complacent to claim your victimhood. If you were ever found, no one would believe you. You’d quickly be an accomplice, just as crazy as the rest of them. At least, that’s how you’d view yourself from the outside looking in, unaware of the desperate measures you took to survive, even when you didn’t necessarily want to.

There hadn’t been any visitors to Ambrose for a long while, and with the oppressive humidity that veiled the Louisiana swamplands, the brothers seemed glad for the extended break. You were too, since Bo had told you that if you were going to be “working” in town, you’d have to pull your own weight. Sooner or later, you’d kill someone, either out of necessity or him forcing your hand. You silently hoped that the world would continue to forget about Ambrose, that no one would be able to pass through again, and you and the Sinclair brothers would be the final addition to the dead town’s rot. There was no point in hoping.

The town’s dry spell of unsuspecting motorists broke in the middle of June, a sweltering day you spent mostly inside the gas station, standing in front of the air conditioning vent with a sweating bottle of soda. An unfamiliar car chugged along the street, before pulling into the gas station. You didn’t know much about cars, but the loud bang the machine made when it finally stopped didn’t sound good.

You set your soda down, taking a deep breath before walking outside to join the couple who had gotten out of the car and were arguing. They were around your age, and you wondered if they’d recognize your face at all, recalling it from missing persons ads. When the couple looked at you, however, recognition didn’t spark in either of their faces.

“How can I help y’all?” you asked.

“My car’s fucked, and some weird guy on the highway said this was the only body shop around,” the guy said.

“I’m going inside. It’s way too hot out here,” the girl said, heading inside the shop.

“Sure, let me get Bo. He’s on lunch, but he’d be glad to help,” you said, almost shocked at how easily the lie came out of your mouth.

The guy nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”

Bo spent most of the late morning in the movie theater, claiming something needed to be fixed there. It wasn’t a far walk, but between the heat and their attitudes, you figured the couple weren’t the type who liked being kept waiting. Still, you didn’t run, it was too hot out for that kind of effort on your part.

As soon as you stepped into the derelict movie theater, you were met with a stifling humidity and the scent of rot. You hated that you knew what that smelled like now.

The air conditioning, that’s what Bo had been busy fixing. In all honesty, it amazed you that the wax museum was even standing with how hot it got in Ambrose. Every few days, Vincent would have to make the rounds and check on the wax sculptures, touching up any heat-related imperfections, though you knew most of the buildings had air conditioning blasting to preserve his work. The movie theater had without a doubt the most sculptures besides the museum, so keeping it cool was imperative.

You called out for Bo, wandering around the movie theater until you heard him respond from a utility closet. Finding him in this spot, you couldn’t help but admire the way his white t-shirt clung to his sweat-covered body. Thankfully, he didn’t notice your ogling.

“What? You couldn’t even bring me a fuckin’ drink? Jesus,” Bo said.

“There’s two—um—we have customers.”

He grinned, grabbing the mechanic’s shirt that was bunched up on the floor. “‘Bout damn time.”

After using the shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he pulled it on, buttoning it up as the two of you left the movie theater and walked back to the gas station. Although no one could possibly eavesdrop, you spoke in a hushed tone as you relayed the basic information that you had on the couple. Lester directed them to Ambrose, their car was busted, and they were incredibly cranky.

You were worried that it wasn’t enough information for him, but he seemed more than pleased with what you already knew. It made sense, he was used to handling this side of things on his own. Again, you cemented your accomplice status.

The couple rushed outside as soon as they saw you and Bo a few yards away, making your way up the street. They were in one hell of a hurry for nothing.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait,” Bo said. “This your car?”

The guy nearly rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

Bo chuckled, though you knew him well enough that it betrayed his disdain for the guy already. “Right. How ‘bout you gimme the keys, and I’ll bring it into the garage and take a look at it.”

“Good luck,” the guy said, handing Bo his keys. “I barely got it into town in the first place.”

“Might as well give it a try. Y/N, you mind helpin’ me for a minute?” Bo asked.

“Not at all. You two make yourselves comfortable inside,” you said.

They hardly waited for you to finish talking before making a beeline to return to the air conditioned store. Bo shot a glare at their backs, shaking his head as he got into the guy’s car. As he revved the engine, it made a noise that had Bo smirking a bit.

“Damn, this car’s shot to hell, and I didn’t even do it this time.”

It took him a minute or two to get it a few feet into the garage, and you didn’t have to be an expert to know that getting that car safe enough to drive would probably take a few days. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be driving it again anyway.

Bo got out of the car, throwing the keys on a nearby tool cart. “You’re gettin’ one of those assholes. I don’t care which one, but today’s the day, darlin’.”

“I—the girl, I guess.”

He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you with an intensity that made you nearly wither to dust in his hold. “No guessin’. You killin’ her or not?”

You nodded. “I will. I’ll kill her.”

“Good. There’s a gun under the counter, should be easy enough to take ‘er out.”

“Okay, okay,” you said.

“Get on back there, then,” he said, giving you a quick kiss.

When you walked back into the shop, the girl had already helped herself to one of the sodas, another unopened one sitting on the counter. They were mumbling between themselves, glancing at the garage until they noticed you were back.

“Can you hurry up? I’m gonna need one of those cans of oil. The one behind the register,” the guy asked as you went behind the counter.

“What do you expect, babe?” the girl muttered. “They probably can’t even read.”

He snickered in response. She hadn’t meant to say it loud enough for you to hear, but you did, loud and clear. Derogatory, meant to bolster their fractured superiority at their helplessness, having to turn to the likes of swampland hicks for help. You supposed that included yourself now, living in unprecedented isolation with the Sinclairs.

That was a decision you’d made yourself a few weeks—or was it months—earlier in the kitchen of the Sinclair house. You caused a scene, but you got your point across. You chose this life instead of death. You chose Bo. It was one thing when your own life was in your own hands, but the lives of others was a much heavier burden. You loved Bo. You knew you did. Sometimes love meant compromising, though it surely was never supposed to go so far. Then again, no one had ever been in a relationship quite like yours before, you were sure of that much.

You gasped as your hand brushed the gun Bo kept beneath the counter. The guy looked at you, rolling his eyes before turning around, leaning against the counter and staring at the sleepy main street out the shop windows. It’d be so easy, just pick up the gun and put a bullet right through the back of his head, then get his girlfriend while she was still in shock.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the plastic container next to you, setting it on the counter. They were rude and awful, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die. You were sure there were plenty of times you’d been rude before, short with someone on the receiving end of your bad day. It didn’t mean you deserved what had happened to you.

Their deaths were inevitable, though. That was certain in Ambrose, but you’d stand your ground. If they were going to die, you wouldn’t be the one to do it. Maybe that made you just as bad, but your hands would be clean. You rung up the oil and two sodas on the beat-up cash register, and the guy turned around to grab the container and leave a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, mumbling for you to keep the change.

The couple headed outside to see how progress was going on their car. Bo really was one hell of a mechanic, and as much as he knew how to fix a car, he also knew just how to fuck around with one to make it undrivable. In this case, he wouldn’t have to do too much extra work.

You sat down on a crate behind the counter, displeased to find that your soda was room temperature and flat. Sighing, you closed your eyes for a few moments, ignoring the heat-induced headache that you could feel creeping up on you.

The shop door slamming open, bell clinging rapidly, pulled you from your rest. Was it only a few minutes, or had you fallen asleep? The girl stood in the doorway, panicked and wild-eyed.

“Hey! Holy shit!”

You stood up, furrowing your eyebrows at the way she rushed toward the counter.

“You have to call the police! That guy out there–your coworker went insane!” the girl shouted. “Fucking do something!”

She pushed you out of the way, grabbing for the phone on the wall behind you, only to hear a dead dial tone on the other end of the line. “What the fuck? What the–”

The bell for the front door of the shop chimed again, and the two of you saw Bo taking up most of the space in the doorframe, sweat dripping down his face, blood splattered across his hands. The screwdriver he was holding was covered in blood too. His eyes were set on the girl as he took a step into the shop.

“We have to go!” the girl screamed, grabbing you by the sleeve and pulling you after her.

She ran into the garage, an anguished scream tearing from her throat at the sight of her dead boyfriend. When it became clear you weren’t in as much of a rush as her, she started running, leaving you behind. You couldn’t blame her, that’s what you would’ve done too.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Bo growled, seeing the girl run off while you stood around, shocked and useless.

He shot a glare your way as he raced after her. Maybe she’d get the upper hand somehow and do what you and everyone else who came before weren’t able to. The thought made you tense up. Would she know you were part of this? Would she come after you next? You weren’t sure what you wanted to happen, but as you caught a glimpse of the fresh body of the girl’s dearly deceased boytoy, you decided to head back into the shop for the time being.

You spent the next half hour cleaning the blood off the gas station shop floor, the bleach you poured burning your throat as you mopped up what had come from Bo when he stormed through. Your efforts were premature, because almost as soon as the old floor looked as spotless as you could make it, the shop bell rang again.

Bo had caught up with the girl, though from the scratches on his face, it wasn’t without a fight. More than you could say. She, however, was worse for wear, her nose bleeding, probably broken, and she had a pronounced limp as she stumbled into the shop, black tears streaking down her face. Grit and dirt were inseparably mixed with the blood that ran from her knee down to her ankle, skin red and raw.

Bo pushed her onto the ground, and she screamed as her open wound made contact with the freshly bleached floor. Bile rose in your throat as you looked at her, trying to ignore Bo reaching for the screwdriver he’d kept in his pocket. You couldn’t do it. She could’ve been you or any of your friends. Nevertheless, he shoved the tool in your hand.

He held the girl by the hair, close enough so her throat was pressed against the end of the screwdriver. “Do it.”

“Please don’t. No, no, no, no, I don’t wanna die,” she sobbed. “Fuck, shit, I don’t wanna die.”

You didn’t even know her name and you were supposed to kill her. Would that have made it easier? Or harder? Your hesitation didn’t go over well with Bo, as he let out a frustrated growl and grabbed your hand, driving the screwdriver through the girl’s neck. His hand wrapped around yours in a death grip, making you unable to let go of the screwdriver or pull it from her flesh until he thought it was enough.

To add insult to injury, he twisted the screwdriver, and you gagged at the girl’s gurgled agony as blood poured from her mouth. Her hands weakly reached for the screwdriver in vain, because Bo twisted it again, grinning at the pained expression on her face. Panic finally caught up with you as you considered if this was how your friends died–messy, cruel, and torturous at his hands.

When he pulled the screwdriver from her throat, releasing your hand with it, you almost felt relieved that it was over. By the furious expression on his face, however, you were still in for it. He grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, backing you into the wall and holding the bloody screwdriver against your throat.

“I oughta kill you too,” he hissed. “When I tell you to do somethin’, you fuckin’ do it.”

“Bo, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I couldn’t–”

Before you could try to explain yourself, he roughly grabbed your arm, his short, sharp fingernails digging into your skin as he walked toward the basement door. He dropped the screwdriver on the floor as he used both hands to get a better hold of you. Your shoes squeaked against the linoleum shop floor as you tried to dig your heels in and prevent him from moving you any closer.

“No!” you screeched, feeling the strain in your throat as you struggled against him. “Don’t bring me back there! I don’t wanna go back there!”

“‘S where you belong. Vinny was right, gettin’ you into this was a mistake.”

“I swear to god I’ll do it next time! Please don’t–”

You wailed as he landed a harsh slap across your face, his ring breaking the tender skin of your cheek. In this moment of weakness, he was able to overtake you, pulling you back into the hell you’d worked so hard to escape from less than a year before.

The animalistic holler you let out in protest was met only by echoes from the concrete. Your fallen comrades plastered on the walls shared your distress as your eyes darted across each of them. You knew as soon as you ended up in such a place that you’d end up one of them. You had your chance, and you blew it. Soon, you too would be memorialized as yet another brutalized girl whose Polaroid graced the walls of the goddamn dungeon.

Bo sneered as he strapped your limbs to the surgical bed that you still had nightmares about. You probably would have thought it was a dream if your face wasn’t stinging from the impact just moments earlier. Nothing that was coming from your mouth was coherent. Nothing you could say would make him have pity or mercy on you. He wasn’t capable of that.

Deja vu swirled through your mind as he cut off your clothes, and you braced yourself for the feeling of his knife on your skin, until it didn’t come.

He clicked his tongue as he looked at you, sobbing and bleeding. “There ain’t gonna be a next time.”

He smacked you again for good measure, and then left to take care of the bodies in the shop. You didn’t see him again for three days. Nothing had changed since you were last down there, he hadn’t even bothered to clean the place out, as if he were keeping it for insurance if things didn’t work out with you.

There was no point in screaming for help, no one who heard you would help anyway. This was between you and Bo. You wondered if he was leaving you there to die, knowing dehydration would catch up with you, and he’d find your disgusting, rotting corpse by the Fourth of July.

Your mouth was dry, and your whole head was pounding from the lack of water and the heat that somehow made its way all the way down to the basement. You couldn’t even cry, you were so dehydrated–there were no tears, just your pathetic wailing and whimpering until you couldn’t even manage that.

When he finally came down to check on you, cigarette hanging from his lips and a cold bottle of water in his hand, you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating. He grinned upon seeing you, and for a moment, your heart fluttered, or maybe you were just dying. Regardless, you were glad to see him, even if he had done this to you.

“Fuck, seein’ you back here is somethin’ else,” he growled lowly, setting the water bottle tauntingly close to you and adjusting his crotch. “How’s your vacation been?”

You balked at his statement. Vacation?

“What? You ain’t been doin’ shit the past few days, just lyin’ around here. Seems like you don’t appreciate it, though,” he said.

You shook your head frantically, unable to speak. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, tapping the ashes onto your bound leg. Your muscles flinched, and you hissed in pain.

Though you knew what was coming next, you still couldn’t mentally prepare yourself for the way he took a long drag from the cigarette before putting it out on your leg, holding it for at least ten painful seconds as a harsh cry came from your parched windpipe. Between the pain from your leg and your throat, you felt like you were being torn in half. He snickered as he pulled it away, his other hand brushing the freshly burnt skin as you screamed again.

“Why don’t I make it better for ya, darlin’?” he asked, conniving condescension in his voice as he picked up the unopened water bottle, twisting the cap open, and pouring half of it onto your leg.

Fuck, you should’ve killed the girl you had the chance. The first water you’d seen in days and half of it was running down your fucking leg.

“Stop,” you croaked.

He grinned, holding up the water bottle. “Where’s your manners, darlin’?”

“Please.”

Once again, he set the water bottle down, but this time he unstrapped your arms and legs from the surgical bed. You knew better than to assume you’d get out of it with mild dehydration and a cigarette burn. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell to the floor. He looked more than pleased with this. It’s where he wanted you anyway.

He grabbed the water bottle, and you opened your mouth, expecting the extent of your humiliation before him to be his pouring the water into your mouth so you’d choke on it or something. Instead, he poured the water on the floor directly in front of you, and you looked at him in horrified disbelief.

“Well? I thought you were thirsty,” he said, stepping in the puddle of water before you.

You let out a whimper before lowering your head, hesitating for a moment. With a shaky breath, you stuck out your tongue, and as soon as it touched the water, you lost control. What little dignity you had left in your brain screamed at you to stop, that you were better than this and you’d probably get tetanus or jaundice, or some kind of -ice or -itis that would fuck up your intestines royally.

The rest of your body, that was parched and desperate overtook your reasoning, and you lapped up the dirty water at his feet like–well, your life did depend on it. The water was disgusting, and you gagged a few times while licking it up, the taste of dirt and copper and god knows what else mingling in your mouth. Then, when the floor was as dry as it could get, and all of the water was gone, you looked up to see his cock in his hand, a sadistic grin on his face as he jerked himself off over you.

“Fuck, you’re the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he grunted in perverse adoration.

You moved to take over, assuming that was what he wanted you to do next until he pushed you onto your ass with his free hand. It felt like you were watching him for eternity before he came with a loud groan, throwing his head back as his cum pumped from his cock and onto the floor. When he was finished, he looked over at you with hooded lids and a lazy, shit-eating grin.

“Get a move on, darlin’. I wanna see you lick it up like a little bitch again.”

Though you had a bit more resolve this time around, your lip trembling as you stuck your tongue out, almost recoiling when you tasted his cum on the floor. Apparently, you weren’t licking it up enthusiastically enough for his liking, because you felt his boot on the back of your head, pushing your face into the floor.

With tears in your eyes, you lapped up his cum like you did the water just moments before, and a pleased groan came from above you. You actually heard his pants zipper this time, trying to focus on anything but the overwhelming nausea and rancid mix of semen and whatever else was on the floor. Somehow, you managed to lick it all up, not without losing a solid amount of respect for yourself first.

Suddenly, you started gagging, feeling the sour mix of floor water and cum making its way back up your esophagus.

He covered your mouth with his hand. “Keep it down, darlin’, or I’ll make you lick that up too.”

Your muffled whine was all the affirmation he needed, and you somehow willed yourself not to throw up.

“Next time you think for a second you can get away with not doin’ what I say, I want you to remember this,” he hissed in your ear.

You nodded, bleary eyed as he helped you up from the floor, practically having to drag you up the stairs. He drove you back up to the house, and the next week or so consisted of you slowly regaining your strength and attempting to get back in his good graces, if you could even call it that. Despite everything, you wanted his attention, his approval. After all, he let you live despite your massive fuck up. He was all you had. Against every rational bone in your body, you still loved him.

The town was quiet again, until the weekend before the Fourth of July, when it wasn’t. You were in the gas station, this time with Bo nearby in the garage when another couple walked into the shop. They were smiling and holding hands. You almost wondered if they were in the right place. As they walked up to the counter, you greeted them as pleasantly as you could.

“Your face–oh honey, you alright?” the woman asked, genuine concern laced in her voice that made you want to cry. The cut on your cheek where Bo had hit you wasn’t fully healed, and despite your care, it would undoubtedly scar over.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said. “I took a walk during my lunch break the other day and tripped on the gravel road up the way.”

“Well, we’d appreciate some help. Got some car trouble up the road. We were gonna walk, but this nice fella gave us a ride,” the guy said.

“Sure, my husband Bo’s the mechanic. I’ll go get him,” you said, leaving for the nearby garage to let Bo know about the customers.

Why did these ones have to be nice?

“Husband and wife, Lester dropped them off because their car broke down on the side of the road but they’re not sure what’s wrong with it,” you explained quietly.

“You fuck this up,” he threatened through gritted teeth, “and I swear to god, I’ll make sure Vincent keeps ya alive when you join your little friends.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. She better be dead by the time I get back with his body.”

“She will be.”

You and Bo walked back into the shop, his arm around your waist as the two of you sauntered back into the storefront.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait. My wife tells me y’all’s car broke down?”

“Yeah, the man who dropped us off said you could tow it back here? We’re real sorry for the trouble, but if you could–”

Bo smiled. “No trouble at all. You wouldn’t mind comin’ with me to pick it up? Don’t wanna drag the wrong guy’s car all the way back here.”

“‘Course, is there a motel nearby we can stay in if the repairs take a few days?” the guy asked.

“Yeah, I can show you on the way back, and then Y/N can give y’all a lift there once I get the car in the garage.”

“Thank you so much,” the woman said. “You two are really sweet.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you said.

Bo grabbed the tow truck keys from one of the hooks on the wall, before pulling you in for a kiss. You wished he didn’t kiss you so sweetly only because there were other people around. Hell, you almost considered escalating it, the couple wouldn’t live to tell anyone anyway.

“We’ll be back quick, darlin’,” Bo murmured against your lips. “You girls stay out of trouble.”

The woman laughed, shaking her head as her own husband gave her a kiss before walking out of the shop with Bo.

“So, how long have you and your wife been together?” you could hear the guy ask Bo.

You wanted to keep interactions with the woman as minimal as possible, but she was frustratingly sweet, insisting on helping you with the bullshit task you’d made up to try to keep your distance from her. She reminded you of your own friends, in a way, or maybe someone being genuinely nice to you for the first time in nearly a year made you overly sentimental.

“That’s wonderful you get to work with your husband. I’m sure y’all are either really close or ya can’t stand each other,” she said.

“Something like that.”

“I hope Billy and me get to do somethin’ like this one day, maybe with a few kids runnin’ around,” she said wistfully. “I’m probably gettin’ ahead ‘a myself.”

You gave her a terse smile. Poor Billy won’t be doing shit. Glancing at the clock, about twenty minutes had passed. If Bo and Billy��of course Deanna had given you their fucking names–weren’t at the car by now, they were going to be close. Your window of opportunity was shrinking with each passing second.

“You’ve really been so helpful, Deanna. Are you sure you don’t wanna wait?” you asked.

“Lord no. Ain’t many people like you and your husband around nowadays,” she smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Alright, well, I gotta get something from up front really quick.”

She nodded absentmindedly as she looked through the box of fan belts you were restocking.

The shop felt unsettlingly cold for the season as you rounded the counter, grabbing for the gun that was kept underneath it. Your breath hitched when you came up empty. He moved it, probably on purpose so your first kill would have to be more bloody, more personal. You’d lost the privilege of a clean, easy kill.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you considered your options. The screwdriver was definitely out, and you couldn’t head back into the garage and dig through Bo’s tools without her seeing you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked frantically around the shop until you noticed a letter opener laying next to the cash register.

You walked to the back of the store, Deanna still facing away from you. The letter opener would hurt like hell. It wasn’t even that sharp to begin with, and you’d have to really work to make sure she was dead. Taking a deep breath, you plunged it into her shoulder blade and then back out.

“Lady, what the fuck is your problem?” she shouted, reaching for her shoulder and gasping in pain.

You froze. You fucked up, and Bo was gonna be back soon. Both you and Deanna had the same idea, because as soon as she ran, you sped after her. Though you were still weak from your days in the basement, she wasn’t very athletic herself. She tried several shop doors, distressed to find them locked, until she made a break for the church. You followed close behind. There was no person, no deity in that church who could save her.

By the time you got inside the church, she’d already realized that the congregation, the priest, everyone was fake. The confusion on her face shifted to panic as soon as she saw you.

“Get the fuck away from me you psycho bitch!” she yelled, throwing hymnals at you as you approached with your sad little letter opener.

In your desperation, you tackled her, but the letter opener slipped out of your hands. The two of you punched and clawed at each other, until she rolled over, and you shoved your finger in the wound in her shoulder blade. Her screams fell on deaf ears as once again you looked frantically for something nearby that you could use as a weapon. Your gaze landed on the rosary beads clutched between Trudy’s wax-preserved hands, and you dug your finger deeper into Deanna’s shoulder blade as you maneuvered the rosary beads out from the casket.

Rosary beads in hand, you pulled your finger from the now gaping wound in Deanna’s shoulder blade and pulled the rosary around her neck, the individual glass beads digging into her skin as you pulled tighter and tighter, your own hands getting cut up with the force you were using to strangle her. It seemed like it was a never-ending struggle until finally, she went limp beneath you, and you pulled the rosary away, small cuts in her neck beading and dripping down her throat.

You put your fingers to her pulse and waited. Nothing. You did it. Throwing the rosary beads back into the casket, you didn’t look forward to telling Vincent which statute needed repairs now. That was nothing, though. You could deal with his moping for a few days. Besides, you got one, a brand new addition to the growing town.

Grabbing Deanna’s limp body, you began the ordeal of dragging it back to the gas station so Bo could see your handiwork for himself. You only got about halfway back before the tow truck pulled up, Billy and Deanna’s car hitched to the back. As soon as Bo stopped the truck, Billy hunched over. He was definitely dead.

Bo got out of the truck, rushing over to you. He looked at Deanna’s body, and then to you.

“What’d you use?” he asked, taking your cut up hands in his, inspecting the wounds, your own stigmata.

“Strangled her with your mom’s rosary beads,” you answered quietly. “Sorry.”

He grinned. “You did good, darlin’.”

All of the tension in your body released at those words, and you smiled, throwing your arms around him and kissing him deeply, giggles emitting from your chest every few seconds. Maybe it was the adrenaline still rushing through you, or maybe Bo had been right all along. You felt…great.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x female reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slasher community #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x you

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azures-bazar · 2 years ago

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A Man From Another Time

A new one ! No need to remind you about my very strange writing schedules lmao This one came out of a corner of my mind as I asked myself "what if Arthur travelled with Francis Sinclair to 2023 ?"

I think I'll be doing a whole series of Modern!Arthur ! I just love picturing him trying things from the 21st century and being like totally thrilled by his discoveries !

And look at these absolutely gorgeous blue dotted socks

Modern - Arthur Morgan x GenderNeutral!Reader

Word count : 3.1k

Short summary : Somehow, Arthur has time-travelled with you to your own era, and discovers a world he never thought about.

A/Note : It’s based on a French experience, forgive me if it’s inaccurate.

Tags : cute, Arthur being like a kid, modern technologies, where are horses ?, overwhelmed boah, time-travelling, from 1899 to 2023, Francis Sinclair, post chapter 6

******

"Where are the horses ?"

This was the very first thing Arthur asked when you took him out in the city you were living in. His arrival at your place was rather strange and sudden as you woke up one night with him standing in your living room, completely unfazed and scared about something that might have happened earlier on. You had switched all lights on, absolutely terrified by this tall man wearing a union-suit, covered in bruises, coughing blood, unarmed, who looked at you with fear in his eyes. The only thing which made you keep your calm was Francis Sinclair, who was with him, holding him by the shoulders.

"We need some help here !" Francis had told you

You had met Francis while having a drink at the bar. He had first told you about time-travelling, you did not expect it to be true until he made you go through a door which led you straight to Saint-Denis, somewhere in 1899. Francis was a very peculiar man who had enjoyed playing with your thoughts about time-travelling. You never expected to move from an era to another, being somewhat scared to cause a paradox which would lead to some serious issues in your own time. You had watched many movies about paradoxes and did not want ending up into one of them.

The very first thing Francis had explained you was that Arthur had a tuberculosis, leading you to rush to your car in the middle of the night to drive to the nearest hospital. Arthur was absolutely mortified when he got inside, not saying a single word, even when you got to the hospital and dragged him inside. He coughed, still shaken and limping. Francis kept explaining him that you were going to see a doctor, but Arthur felt scared by what was happening. He had followed Francis into this strange door leading to your place, and there he was, with all these folks wearing white blouses and masks surrounding him. He had to remain at the hospital for a few days for his health to stabilise itself with the set of antibiotics given to him. You heard his voice for the first time when he got surprised by the doctor’s response to his illness.

"Tuberculosis has a cure ?"

Yes, his illness had a cure, there was enough hope for him to survive with the modern medicine. If Francis had decided to leave him behind in 1899, Arthur would have died on the top of that mountain in Roanoke Ridge. Francis had brought him to you right after Dutch had abandoned him, and Arthur was still devastated by this set of events that had happened a few minutes ago. In fact, he unexpectedly tried looking around the room to spot you nearby, afraid someone else was about to abandon him. You could not do that, you could not leave this poor man behind.

"You’re gonna be okay, sir." a nurse told him. "What’s your name ?"

"Arthur…" he groaned. "Arthur Morgan... I…I was…-"

"It’s okay, you’re okay."

Tears started streaming on his cheeks as they put an oxygen mask over his bruised face, you had watched him from distance while Francis had explained you the whole situation about Arthur’s old gang falling apart, his father-figure turning against him, his overall sacrifice for his brother. You felt the need to take care of him, Francis did not bring him to you by mistake, he knew you would help.

"It’s alright Arthur, we’re gonna take care of you." the nurse had told Arthur to calm him down

You had spent that night next to Arthur’s bed at the hospital, holding his hand while he was coughing, sobbing while remembering these past events, the way Dutch had betrayed him. You had tried your best to calm him down all night long, almost feeling devastated for this man you did not even know, ready to give up a piece of your own freedom to nurse him back to health and, probably, make him forget about his former life. He was certainly going to have some hard time to accommodate to this world, 124 years ahead of his time.

****

You had been taking care of Arthur for weeks already, Francis having been gone somewhere, leaving you alone with this peculiar roommate. You gave him your room, sleeping on the sofa of the living room in order to provide him with his own personal space and not bother him while you were either cooking, doing your laundry, watching tv or even working from home. For the first few days, Arthur hardly left your room, feeling constantly tired and mostly unable to walk around your place, only making it to the bathroom. These antibiotics given to him were certainly a cause to this permanent exhaustion, but he did not mind. He thanked you for nursing him back to health and being so kind with him perhaps twice a day.

His attitude was sweet, if not downright clingy at times. Arthur’s overall trauma following Dutch’s abandonment led him to develop a permanent need to have you around him, you could not spend a whole day at your workplace because you knew how much your guest longed to have you with him. After searching on the internet, you had found that Arthur was most likely suffering from a severe PTSD, but you did not mind. In fact, you enjoyed having Arthur near you, knowing he was feeling relaxed by hearing your footsteps, your voice, or by just seeing you.

Arthur had put all his trust on you since you brought him back from the hospital. Despite displaying his usual rowdy behaviour at times, he still obeyed your rules. You liked his overall presence at home, it made your life more enchanting to know that you were not going back to your empty place, but were going to see Arthur. It certainly brought the two of you quite close, enough for you to start displaying some physical affection towards him., something he had mostly forgotten following his arrival at your place. Sometimes, you would run your fingers in his hair, and he adored that. He adored everything you were doing to him. You were like an angel, his saviour. The one who almost brought him back to life.

Some moments were certainly funnier than others. When Arthur started feeling better, he finally had the occasion to take a shower instead of rubbing some wet cloth on his body. Poor man spent about ten minutes trying to figure out how your shower worked, absolutely shocked to feel hot water coming of it. You could hear him laugh, not used to this peculiar feeling it gave him. It tickled him ! Sometimes, he would even sing under shower, humming a few old songs with his rather raspy voice. At some point, he nearly broke your hairdryer, not fully understanding how it worked. Oh, and also your coffee machine. Arthur was not good with modern technologies yet.

You had seen him glance through the window for days, looking around your room, reading some of the books you had on your shelves. Once he felt better, he even walked inside the living room and was absolutely amazed by the TV, looking around to see where the projectionist platform was. He had jumped back when you switched it on, swearing at your TV for being so loud. When he first saw your phone laying on the counter, he took it between his hands and genuinely believed it was some piece of decoration.

"What’s that ?" he had asked, not understanding what this device was, looking like a very tiny TV screen

"It’s a phone. I’ll get you one, someday."

"That lil’ thing’s a phone ? You gotta be kiddin’ me !"

"You can even take instant pictures with it. And record stuff."

"Instant pictures and record ? But can you still call folks ?"

Arthur’s rather childish fascination for the modern world was fun to watch. It took you about a week to explain him how your TV worked, how your laptop could be switched on, how he could use your keyboard, having been used to typewriters… or to his own hands. His face, whenever you were switching your phone or your laptop on, was absolutely priceless ! You saw him randomly gaze the ceiling, trying to understand how your light bulb worked from up there. At some point, he kept playing with the switch, being mesmerised by how quick your lights could switch on and off.

"What a progress !" he exclaimed

You had introduced him to 20th century music, he seemed to be fond of rock and roll and awkwardly had danced on some songs from The Doors or The Rolling Stones. At least, he was doing much better than the day Francis brought him, even when he was listening to sad songs like the ones from Johnny Cash. His overall fascination for modern music was beautiful to witness, he even shed tears while listening to some songs he found sad. It was so hard for him to accommodate to this world, but listening to modern music made it easier.

At some point, you decided to take him out to show him the world you lived in. You had bought Arthur some clothes from local thrift stores after explaining him how men were dressing themselves up. He loved tee-shirts and sweatpants, you had mostly seen him wandering around your place dressed in those. Knowing you were going outside to take a walk, Arthur decided to ditch his sweatpants to wear some jeans instead. It suited him well ! You had trimmed his hair every three months, no one would have thought that man was from 1899 at first sight… until he would start talking.

As soon you left your place, Arthur felt overwhelmed by the world surrounding him. He had not stepped a foot outside your place since you brought him back from the hospital following his diagnosis. His first remark was quick to come, he came from 1899, when cars were far from being as popular as they at your time. Where were the horses ? You took your time to explain him that these shiny metallic figures on four wheels were the equivalent stagecoaches, and that motorcycles could be seen as the modern version of horses. At first, Arthur believed horses were all gone.

"So you killed all horses ?!" he gasped, looking somewhat angered and shocked

"Of course not !" you chuckled. "We just don’t use them anymore, but we don’t kill them. Cars are way faster than horses, so that’s why they got built. For us to travel faster."

"What’s the point of goin’ faster if you can’t take time to look around ?"

"Our society makes us want things fast, and cars are one of the tools which allows us to be faster."

Arthur nodded. What an overwhelming sight, a massive amount of information to process ! He wanted to analyse one of the cars parked nearby and moved on to the road to gaze at the wheels, a bus nearly ran into him as you jerked him towards you. Arthur looked petrified when as the bus passed by so fast, clinging his fists onto your shirt. He was obviously not used to see vehicles move at such speed!

"Good lord !" he gasped. "I nearly got killed right here !"

"Alright, I think you’re going to hold my hand."

Arthur did not respond, he did not even react when you grabbed his hand. You started walking on the sidewalk, keeping Arthur close to you while he kept looked around, nearly stumbling a few times, not looking where he was going. You almost felt like you had a giant child with you as he spent about a third of his time asking you what this place was, why there were green and red lights, why the buildings were sometimes this high, where were the sherifs. At some point, he even stopped your walk to glance at the store, exposing clothes for women. Some casual high-waisted shorts with black shirts.

"So women only wear underwear now ?" he asked. "They ain’t covering their ankles anymore ?"

"Some still do. Depending on your cultural beliefs, you can cover your ankles, your hands, or your head."

"And women walkin’ around in their actual underwear is acceptable now ?"

"No. Men and women can’t just walk in their underwear."

You were not ready to explain him anything about swim wear, he would probably confuse bikinis and boxers with actual underwear. Arthur was discovering a new world, enough for you to smile at him when he was stopping to look at casual things which were not this casual in his time. He even got completely amazed by a screen moving on a nearby billboard, showing an image of a Neil Armstrong going during the landing on the moon. An exhibition about Apollo 11 was currently available in your city.

"What’s that ?" he asked, pointing at the image

"What ? The rocket ?"

"I get it’s a rocket, but why is thy feller going down ? Where was he ?"

"Oh, that’s Neil Armstrong about to set foot on the moon. There’s an ex…-"

"Someone set foot on the moon ?!"

He was shocked by this, as his core memory was still focused on 1899, with electric chairs still in progress and planes being only prototypes. Arthur would have been around 106 years old in 1969, provided he did not have tuberculosis, survived two World Wars, the Wall Street Crash of 1929 and the Military Administration until 1944. You decided to take him to the exhibition for him to learn more about the events which led to the Apollo 11 mission, Arthur did not let go of your hand, asking you several questions about the short movies displayed, spatial suits, even what a rocket looked like. His puppy eyes glancing around the exhibition made your day more bright, he was almost not the same man the one Francis had brought you months ago !

After the exhibition, you took a break in the park. Arthur casually took a cigarette out of one of his pockets. He was looking at people walking by, families and simple town folk, dressed so differently than people from his own era. For months, he had not left your place, he barely knew what people looked like and how they behaved. He still tried greeting them, but a vast majority of them did not respond to his peculiar politeness. People did not greet each other anymore, at least in cities, and it somehow made him sad. Arthur suddenly turned back to you and pointed a plane passing above your city.

"Y/N ! What’s that ?!"

I"t’s a plane, Arthur." you smiled. "People take them to travel faster. Faster than cars."

"Can we try goin’ on a plane ?"

"Sure thing, but not now."

"That’s so amazing ! I wasn’t born in the right era !"

You wanted to contradict him. As far as you knew, you had experienced numerous financial crises, were on a brink of a new war and had gone through a global pandemic. You deeply wanted to tell Arthur that he was somewhat wrong, but the sheer innocence he kept displaying made you change your mind. In no way could you spoil this moment, stop the discovery of this new world.

After a day wandering around the city, Arthur felt exhausted. He had not walked this much for weeks, still trying his best to remain in shape while being around your place, carrying the groceries from your car to the kitchen, sometimes doing the laundry for you, cleaning the plates when you were not home while watching TV. He enjoyed watching documentaries to learn more about the your own world and like sitcoms like F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and Malcolm, often asking you to watch these with him. You still requested him to help you to prepare some food, to which he obliged. He loved doing this and secretly loved being with you.

You ate before the TV, watching an old romantic movie you could not even name. Arthur nearly fell asleep in the process while his arm carefully moved around your shoulders. You smiled as you noticed him slowly drifting into sleep, still strong enough to make a very first move towards you. He had done that before, mostly preferring short embraces or resting his head on your shoulder at times, allowing you to kiss his forehead or his cheek. This was a big move !

"Arthur, go to bed." you smiled, gently passing your hand through his hair you had cut yourself

"Hmmm… yeah…"

Arthur rose from your couch and limped towards your bedroom, getting his jeans off to fall on the bed. His legs were so painful, enough for him to struggle lifting them up ! You calmly approached him, dragging a blanket above him, his eyes remained open.

"Care to join me ?" he smiled

"Well… why not."

You took a few clothes off, slipping under the blanket as Arthur dragged you into a very sudden embrace. You had almost forgotten how your own bed felt like, being used to your sofa. His warm body made you feel safe, very safe. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he had forgotten how great it felt to have someone to embrace. He kissed the top of your head as the two of you drifted asleep, leading you to wake up alone the next day. You glanced around, stretching a little as you heard the faint sound of your coffee machine in the living room, leading you to leave your room to come face to face with Arthur standing before the counter, having prepared you a warm coffee.

"Mornin’ darlin’." he smiled. Made you some coffee.

Arthur looked delightful, wearing a large white top with a pair of green boxers you had thought would be cool on him. He was also wearing these funny winter-themed socks you had offered him on a random occasion ! A pair of red socks with Christmas trees and stars on the. He first thought they were ridiculous, but came to enjoy them, cherishing them like any gift you were willing to offer him. He had even baked a chocolate cake !

"Morning." you smiled, kissing his cheek while he was sipping his coffee, causing him to blush. "Didn’t know you could use the oven !"

"Well… I tried some stuff." Arthur answered with a large smile. "Red a book and cooked."

You smiled even more more at Arthur’s sudden pride. He did really well, the cake tasted great. At first, you had forbid him to use the oven, being persuaded he would cause much more trouble than expected. You did not want to come back from work and find out that your place was one fire because Arthur was not able to understand how your oven worked. These past months were fun and you looked up for what was ahead. Arthur was just a man from another time, lost in a world that was not his… but, at least, he was no longer ill and was doing alright, mostly !

to be continued, maybe, maybe

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #gender neutral #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption au #azurestales #our modern boah #modern arthur morgan #my gifs

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misspearly1 · 2 years ago

Text

When Two Worlds Collide Series

Chp1 || Chp2 || Chp3 || Chp4 || Chp5 || Chp6 || Chp7 || Chp8

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader x Arthur Morgan

Chapter Five: Our Gal

WC: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Friends to Lovers. Alternative TLOU & RDR2 Universe. Growing M/F/M Relationship and hints of M/M attraction. Smut. Mentions of Sex. Oral Sex (fem receiving). Fingering. Little bit of angst in this one, but it has a fluffy ending.

AN: We're nearly there, my loves! I've been trying really hard to keep this whole story short, but I'm finding it difficult to keep it simple. We need a little more plot before reaching the ending. I can't help it, I love this concept and want to explore every possibly aspect. I will most definitely be writing some singular one-shots for this storyline in the future. I ain't done with this yet hehehe! I hope you enjoy.

It’s been two days cooped up inside this homestead, and it’s been so pleasant living domestically with two men who are head over heels with you that it feels normal. It feels as though you belong here and this is the way things were meant to be… Like you were made for each other.

Unfortunately, it’s a true saying that ‘all good things must come to an end’ and you’ve been trying to ignore that this good thing you got going between you, Joel and Arthur will eventually come to pass. You’ve been trying to avoid the inevitable because at some point, you will be going home and even though you’re desperate to get back to where you really belong, you don’t like to think about the reality of what that means for the cowboy you’ve grown close with over the last few weeks.

Arthur will be staying here, and it’s a farewell that you don’t wish to go through.

You don’t want to say goodbye, and neither does Joel for that matter. They’ve grown close too, especially after you all got intimate the other night. It’s been nothing but a pleasure in the last couple of days. The men satisfied you like you’ve never been satisfied before, and they never left you wanting or needy for more either. You’ve been showered in sweet kisses, blanketed by their warm embrace and completely engulfed in their love and attraction.

Last night however, was a little different. You didn’t roll around the sheets making love to one another until the early hours of the morning like you did the night before. Instead, you initiated a conversation about avoiding that farewell you dread so much.

You spoke to Joel first about it, to which he revealed that he had the same wishes as yourself, and together, you both asked Arthur if he would like to join you when going back home. Neither of you wanted to leave him behind, but neither of you wanted to stay here forever either. This world is different and beautiful, but it’s not where you belong. Austin, Texas is where you belong. It’s where your lives and your families await.

As expected, Arthur kindly denied your thoughtful offer and explained that he belongs here with his family. You already knew he would say that, but you wanted to ask nonetheless and hoped there was a slim chance that he’d say yes, or he would think about it at the very least.

Needless to say, it was a disappointing, yet understandable answer. You know the man can’t leave his gang behind. He’s so loyal to those he loves and it would be absurd to think he’d abandon them to venture into a new world with you and Joel. So rather than spending the night making love, you spent the night cuddling under the covers, holding each other near and dear like you’d be saying goodbye any day now.

That stranger future guy — Francis Sinclair — hasn’t replied to Arthur’s letter yet, but you have a very strong feeling in your gut that he’ll reach out soon. It’s as if you’ve just found something good here, and just like that common saying, all good things must come to an end. Nothing great lasts forever and you fell asleep last night, wrapped up in the greatness of Joel and Arthur’s presence, savouring every special moment you have with them together.

Now, as the birds tweet their morning song and the sun peeks through the windows, Arthur is the one who awoke first, and he awoke with a soft grunt of your name slipping past his lips. You were still fast asleep and he could feel your warmth pressing against his chest as you breathe rhythmically. It was so subtle and sweet the way you lightly snored, the sound barely audible.

He opened his eyes and looked for you, but found Joel’s face peacefully resting against the pillow in front of him instead. You were buried beneath the blankets with your head and your body comfortably squished between him and Joel. He could feel how hot you were, although you didn’t seem to care and basked in the sensation of two men crowding you completely.

While a part of Arthur wishes he could switch places with Joel so he could see your pretty face, another part of him didn’t mind waking up to see the sight of a man laying opposite him. It was rather surprising how much he liked it. He’s never laid in bed with a man like this before, but he wouldn’t oppose doing it again. Joel looked so calm and well rested, the difference in the dark circles under his eyes were most noticeable. They seemingly disappeared overnight and now he sleeps comfortably, as if he, too, didn’t mind laying in bed with another man like this.

In spite of the fact they weren’t really touching each other intimately since you lay between them, it didn’t take away how deeply romantic they’ve been with each other because of you. Arthur smiles with the remembrance of gripping Joel’s bicep for leverage to piston his hips into you from behind. He feels his cheeks burn with arousal when remembering how Joel spoke to him and praised his actions when fucking you till exhaustion. He closes his eyes briefly and shudders when thinking about how sexy and passionate both of you sounded when climaxing. The sound of your whimpers, so breathy and high pitched, mixed and paired well with Joel’s low guttural groans of pleasure.

Arthur loved it; loved everything about you and Joel together. The thought of letting another man join in the sexual act of making love to a woman never occurred to him before until these last couple weeks. But there were so many things about the experience he had over the last few days that he enjoyed so much and wants to do again. Maybe even explore a little more, if Joel is comfortable with that of course.

Surely he would be, Arthur thought to himself as he could feel Joel’s softened cock between your legs. His cock was between your legs too, only it was growing harder and harder by the second with the thoughts of awaking you both with a pleasurable sensation. He spent the night cuddling with you naked instead of satiating that sexual need of his and now he’s woken up today hungry and ravenous to feel your heat wrapped around him, squeezing him of every ounce of desire he could possibly give. The man has never climaxed so much in his life before. It’s as if you hold that special talent to draw all of it out of him. You and Joel.

However, as much as Arthur would have loved to wake you both up with a blissful orgasm, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or wrongfully assume that you like that sort of thing. So instead, he carefully peeled the covers back and climbed out of bed, leaving you both to rest for a little longer while he whips up breakfast.

He got dressed then made his way into the kitchen to look over the food stock. The supply was a little sparse and he’d need to make a visit into town today, but there’s enough to make something to eat for three people.

After gathering some sausages, eggs and bacon together, he brewed up three extra hot mugs of black coffee first before slowly starting the cooking process. He didn’t want to rush and risk the chance of ruining the food, but the smell of roasted coffee beans reached Joel first and he woke up before you did. It was his favourite beverage after all, and he exited the bedroom in nothing but his pants and looked at Arthur sitting by the fire.

“You want some help?” He offered kindly.

“Nah. Take a seat and relax.” Arthur denied the helping hand with the same sentiment of kindness in his tone. “Drink ya coffee. I’ll take care of breakfast today.”

“Well, that’s nice of yer.” Joel moved towards the sofa, chuckling softly with a smile on his face. “Thanks, sunshine.”

Arthur turned to look at him now, his cheeks rosed with flattery while mirroring Joel’s smile. “Don’t mention it, big boy.” He replied and looked into the man’s eyes with a lot of adoration and respect for the man.

Recently, those pet names have harboured a different meaning for Joel and Arthur. It wasn’t just a joking gesture between friends anymore. It became something meaningful and sincere. Like it held the same expressive value of calling you darling or sweetheart. Each of them felt a little flutter in their stomachs and a warm sensation spreading across their chests to hear those terms of endearments. The pair have undeniably become closer to each other, and it’s because of you that their friendship blossomed into something more.

It’s been adventurous and exciting, and Arthur simply can’t get enough of you or Joel. It’s a strange feeling for the man to be so sexually satisfied, yet always hungry for more. He wants more of everything. Not just the sex. More of the way you smile, and how Joel laughs, or how you giggle and the way Joel smiles. He wants more of your humour and the way you tease each other, and the way you never forget to include him in everything either. It won’t be the same without you or Joel. He’s become so used to having you there with him day and night that it feels like you’ve been a part of his life for years. Not weeks.

When the smell of the food started invading every corner of the house and the sound of it sizzling in the pan could be heard, you finally woke up and peeped your head out of the bedroom door. Joel and Arthur turned to look at you, both of their eyes darkening with lust at the sight of you looking so sexy. You stood in the doorway, your eyes heavy and hair slightly dishevelled, with a blanket lazily draped over you that did a poor job of covering up the most revealing areas of your body, but neither of them minded the fact they could see the top of your breasts or a glimpse of your pretty cunt.

“Morning.” You said tiredly, your voice soft and quiet. Moving toward the sofa and taking a seat in the middle, you reached for your coffee then brought your knees up to your chest to get comfortable. Joel laid his arm over your shoulder and squeezed your arm gently. “G’morning, doll.” He murmured into his mug, to which you leaned into his side and looked at Arthur as he smiled at you. “Morning, sweetheart.” He said.

You took all but a sip of your coffee before leaning over Joel to place it on a little table, then moved back into your prior position to cosy up into his side while the food cooks. It smelled divine and your stomach growled, but you still felt so tired and couldn’t fight the urge to close your eyes just for a few moments.

You felt Joel’s hand slipping down your arm to pull the blanket over your body to wrap you up and gradually, you ended up resting your cheek against his chest. The deep vibrating hum of his voice as he spoke to Arthur lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds. Moments later, they alerted you that breakfast was ready and you opened your eyes to find three plates filled with bacon, eggs, sausages and a couple slices of toast on each.

“God.” You sighed. Sitting up straight and rubbing your eyes, it’s as if you fell asleep for longer than a moment and took a little micro nap because the sun was glaring through the windows now. It was blinding your eyes and zapping you with energy. “Can’t believe I fell back to sleep. How long was I actually out for?” You asked before raising your arms to stretch, not caring about how your blanket fell down and revealed the top half of your body. Your breasts were completely exposed now, which Joel and Arthur immediately looked at and blushed.

“Not even ten minutes... Here, sweetheart.” Arthur presented you a plate of food, the delicious aroma making you salivate as you take it from him. “Thanks, handsome.” You replied, then patted the empty space next to you. “Come sit up here with me and Joel.”

“I won’t say no to that.” He grinned. Standing up from the floor and moving towards the sofa, he took a seat while you readjusted your blanket to cover yourself up again. Even though he wouldn’t have minded the sight of your beautiful bare chest while he ate, it’s best that you protect your skin in case you drop any food and burn yourself.

After getting comfortable and digging into his breakfast, you all basked in the silence with the occasional short conversation in between bites. You didn’t feel the need to talk. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest. It was just peaceful.

Surprisingly, you had finished your food first and it was rather out of the ordinary as Joel and Arthur tend to wolf down their meals like it was the last one they should ever have. It’s obvious that you woke up with an impressive appetite today and both of the men were happy that you ate every last bite. You’ve had a few moments here and there over the last few weeks where you skipped meals because of stress and anxiety. So to see you eating like you ought to be was a big relief.

You stood up from the sofa and made your way into the kitchen to wash up, telling them to bring their dishes through once they’re finished. It just felt like the normal daily routine now; wake up, cook and eat breakfast, then clean and do whatever needed to be done that day before relaxing.

Except, there wasn’t anything on the agenda today. The men had finished the wooden fence yesterday evening and the perimeter is secure now. And enough money has been accumulated over the last couple weeks as well, so there isn’t an urgent need to go out and earn either. Though, you do need to restock the food in the kitchen so maybe a visit into the town of Strawberry would be best.

With the timely fashion of Joel and Arthur entering the kitchen with their dishes, you turned to them and asked: “Should we head out for the day? We need to buy food and I think we’d benefit from getting out of the house for a few hours.”

They looked at each other first, exchanging a few wordless looks of contemplation and approval before looking back at you. “Yeah. I think that’d be nice.” Arthur said first, then Joel quickly added with an even better idea. “How ‘bout a picnic? Owanjilla is near Strawberry. We can visit the town and get the supplies, then head over to the lake for a while. It’s good weather outside.”

“I could bring the fishing poles?” Arthur suggested before you could have the chance to reply, expressing his excitement of the idea by how quickly he spoke. “Me and you ain’t ever fished before. We can even teach Y/N if she don’t know how to do it, and whatever we catch, I’ll use to cook us dinner tonight-”

“No.” Joel interrupted firmly. “I’ll cook dinner. You did breakfast, so it’s only fair you and Y/N take a break. Besides, I got a mean fish pie recipe that you’ll love.” They turned to you now, as if they were looking for confirmation on the plans for the day but you didn’t even have to say anything. The humorous grin on your face said it all, but it made them look at you suspiciously and Arthur pointed it out. “What’s so funny? You got that look in ya eyes.”

“I don’t have a look.” You defend yourself and shrug innocently, yet you still wore that grin on your face. It was hard not to smile and feel so happy about how they bickered just now. They were arguing with good intentions behind their words and it was so endearing to see them getting along like this. It was so attractive to see with your own eyes how much they care for each other, and how much they care for you too. “Can’t a lady just be happy for no reason at all, Arthur?” You tease before turning around to face the sink, knowing that your words and actions would prompt him to react in the very best way.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He moved closer and reached out for you, his hand landing on your hip felt warm and strong, thus sending a tingling shiver up your spine. “I didn't mean it like that... Won’t ya forgive me?” He asked, his voice seductive and corrupt as he toys with the blanket wrapped around your body like a towel. You bite your lip and stifle a moan when feeling his fingers traveling inside the fabric to touch your skin. It was like white hot electricity once he made contact, the sensation making your legs squeeze together with a palpable pulse in your nether regions.

“Yes. I suppose I could forgive you, Arthur.” You managed to capture some focus to reply to the man, but feeling him closing in was making your head dizzy with desire. He slowly pulled the blanket off your body and let it drop to the floor, the action making you inhale shakily with the cool air hitting your nipples.

You could hear how they both sighed breathily behind you, as if they were admiring the image of you fully nude from behind. They've seen you naked numerous times now, yet it seems that your appearance never ceases to amaze them. Their eyes were blown wide with lust, their cocks already growing hard and stiff. Arthur pinched your ass cheek and Joel chuckled sadistically at the way you gasped then leaned into him, like you were searching for more.

“You gonna watch or join, big boy?” Arthur whispered to Joel before he moved to stand behind you, his words making your eyes close with anticipation and intrigue as to what comes next. It could only be something most enjoyable and pleasuring. The men never left you wanting, but in some weird way, you always want more. Hell, you even thought about waking them up during the night with an orgasm, but didn’t want to ruin a good sleep. Joel needed it desperately. You saw the bags under his eyes yesterday and they were heavy, but today they have practically disappeared.

Now though, you’re all on the same page and you’re mutually feeling insatiable for each other’s touch. Your head lolls back as Arthur brings his arms around your front to palm your breasts, grabbing the plump flesh by the handfuls while rolling the stiffened nipples between his fingers. You would have moaned, but it was snatched by Joel as he tilted your face towards him eagerly, forcefully, and sealed his lips over yours in a heated kiss.

The man wasn't shy with expressing how much he wanted you. Both of them were like that. Joel swallowed all the pretty little noises you made and groped himself to relieve the ache in his cock. The men groaned in unison, feeling your body become soft like putty in their hands was a reward in itself, as if they were so intoxicating and overwhelming in the very best way for you.

You sampled only a taste of Joel’s tongue in your mouth before he pulled away and looked at Arthur. He made some sort of gesture with his mouth that you didn’t quite catch before they both started smirking at each other, the looks in their eyes can only be described as pure carnal need.

Arthur brought you with him as he took a step back and provided some room for Joel to move in front of you and kneel to the floor, then it suddenly became clear as to what gesture he made with his mouth mere moments ago. The man looked up at you through half-lidded eyes and licked his lips, his face now inches away from your pussy.

“Open your legs a little more for him, kitten.” Arthur instructed, his voice sweet like honey, yet deeply venereal and desirous. Doing as he so politely asked, you spread your feet apart and looked down at Joel as he leaned in to place a kiss on your mound. Your chest began to rise and fall quickly now with the sensation. It felt so good and you could feel Arthur smirking against your neck as he, too, watched Joel get to work between your legs.

He placed another kiss directly over your clit now, but didn’t pull away this time and slipped his tongue between your folds, making your mouth fall open with a pathetic little whimper leaving your lips. It was so breathy and ragged, the sound fuelling their eagerness to please you.

“Oh, that’s good. Right there, Joel.” Arthur praised while holding onto your hips to keep you still as you naturally pulled away from the overstimulation of pleasure. It was surprising to feel how sensitive you still were. You thought it would have eased off now after taking a much needed rest last night, but your clit was still swollen and tender despite the fact you yearned for their touch.

The little gasps and mewling whines escaping you were music to the men's ears. It spurred them both on to keep delivering their punishingly satisfying treatment. Joel gripped the back of your thighs to keep you pinned into the position of his liking while rapidly flicking his tongue left and right, the sound of him slurping up your juices was most shocking and exciting all at the same time. He sounded like a man starved, and your cunt was his only source of replenishment.

It was pleasing just to hear him groaning and grunting into your slicked folds, as if he couldn’t ever get enough; as if he wouldn’t ever be replenished and would always need a drink of your desire right from the source. Arthur rested his chin into the nook of your neck and looked down into Joel’s darkened eyes. “Ya hear that, big boy?” He asked proudly. “She’s close… Y/N’s gonna come for us.” He spoke to him like you weren’t even there and rolled his hips forward to ease the ache in his dick.

You could feel how hard he was. It was pressing into your lower back firmly, but the man didn’t take what he so desperately needed. You would eagerly offer Arthur to fuck you from behind, but it’s as if the man was getting off watching you fall apart on Joel’s tongue instead.

“Oh fuck.” You whined. Throwing your head back with a sobbing cry of their names, Arthur took advantage of the opening and kissed your neck plenty as the peak of your orgasm neared. You could feel the cramp in your abdomen tensing up. It was powerful and beautiful, ready to unravel at any given second. You started to claw at Arthur’s arms and panted heavily between moans of pleasure, but the moment Joel sunk two fingers into your aching cunt, the tension broke and you saw stars.

“Joel!” You mewled his name to the heavens above, almost screamed it. He didn’t ease up and prolonged your climax as long as he possibly could, drawing out every ounce of desire you could offer. Your legs buckled beneath you. It felt so good, but it was too much. All of it was too much.

You couldn’t concentrate on how deliciously big and thick Joel’s fingers were as they worked you open and caressed that soft spot deep inside, the action making you drip your essence down his arm. You couldn’t focus on how good Arthur’s lips felt on your neck, or how feral he sounded as he dry humped you from behind. The man was practically fucking you, using the friction inside his jeans to release a creamy white load onto the denim fabric.

The way they both groaned and grunted was arousing and worthy of another orgasm right there and then. It’s as if they didn’t care how they looked or sounded when making love to you like this in the kitchen. They were ravenous for you to be pleased sexually, starved of those pretty little sounds you make for their ears only and didn’t care about their own pleasure.

You couldn’t concentrate on how filthy and shameless they were right now, but neither of them were done with you yet. It’s Arthur’s turn next; his turn to make you fall apart on his tongue and his fingers as they work you open even more.

Oh, what a sensational way to start the day, you thought.

Later that day, at around noon, you had finally made it to Owanjilla lake and took it upon yourself to set up a blanket on a little bank beneath a tree. You needed to shade as the sun was high in the sky now and you didn't have any sun cream, only a large sun hat to keep you from burning your face, neck and shoulders.

Joel and Arthur didn’t seem to care all that much though. They removed their shirts and lapped up every minute of the heat. It was nice to look at them half undressed and bathe under the sun, but you kept an eye on the time and watched closely for any signs of sunburn or sunstroke.

Taking their shirts off only lasted fifteen minutes before they started cooking and you told them to put their clothes back on. After making a broad selection of sandwiches to choose from and setting them aside to eat later, you finally sat down and relaxed. It was heavenly under the shade. There was a cool breeze whispering through the bushy trees and it sounded angelic.

“My God.” You gasped in awe as you admired the scenic view of everything around you. The lake is magnificent, and the land surrounding it was even more pretty. “Arthur, how can you live here and not spend every day outside? It’s…. It’s just breath-taking.” Kicking your shoes off, you lean against the bark of the tree and unwind to the full extent.

“I do spend every day outside, sweetheart.” Arthur chuckled. Taking his shoes off as well, he and Joel walked a couple feet into the water and threw out the line of their fishing rods before he tilted his head towards you and continued his conversation. “I’ve spent most of my life outside. Ever since I was a young boy really, and I guess it’s always been in my nature to wander around and explore the land, you know?"

“Yeah.” You agree contently. “You’re an outdoorsy kind of guy… I like that.” It makes you smile to think about how Joel is also an outdoorsy kind of guy. He enjoys hiking back home, but hasn't been able to go out and indulge all that much since he started the renovation. The thought popping into your mind brought a twinge of sadness with it though, so you quickly shrugged it off and tried to ignore how much you miss your home. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen out on the road before?” You asked, hoping the topic would distract your mind.

“Shit. There’s so many, I wouldn’t know which ones are the weirdest.” He replied with another chuckling laugh, the sound making you and Joel smile. Arthur once said that you have a pretty laugh, but his laugh is really infectious and attractive. As a matter of fact, Joel’s laugh is the same. They’re just like each other in so many ways, yet uniquely different in their own beautiful way.

“I think I saw a flying spaceship one-time.” Arthur continued casually, dropping that piece of information like it was normal. “I followed some instructions and saw some circular flying object in the night sky. It had a bright green light shining down from it.”

“And you expect us to believe that, huh sunshine?” Joel scoffed affectionately. Nudging Arthur’s side while shaking his head in disbelief, you shook your head too, but the man persisted that it was true. “I could show ya’ll where to find it, then you’ll believe me and then we'll see who's laughing.” He joked, then returned a playful nudge to Joel with a smirk on his lips. They continued to push into each other and slowly broke into a fit of laughter once it became too boisterous. Their camaraderie was most enjoyable to watch. It was entertaining and humorous, the sight making you giggle.

“Anyways, how ‘bout you, sweetheart?” Arthur turned to ask you, then looked at Joel to make him feel included in the conversation. “Ya’ll ever seen something weird like that before? I got stories for days, but all I’ve done is talk about myself since I met you. Tell me what it’s like where you’re from.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen an flying spaceship before, or anything as weird as that.” You admit, then look to Joel for his input. “What about you, Joel? You got anything?”

“Yeah actually, I do.” He nods with a soft laugh, as if he were hesitant to say. “I uhh… I think I might have seen a ghost before. It was a long time ago now, but I was around five or six years old when I saw a woman sitting on the foot of my bed. I didn’t recognise her and my mom thought I was lying for the longest time until she saw her one day too.”

“Oh wow… That’s really spooky.” You shivered with goosebumps when trying to imagine how you’d feel in that situation. It must have been freaky for Joel and his mom to see such an unexplainable phenomenon. You’ve met Joel’s mom once before. Avery is her name and she’s a lovely old woman. Joel clearly got his good looks from her and his old fashioned gentleman attitude from his father, Hudson.

The Miller’s are a welcoming family, and Joel misses them dearly. You’ve noticed that over the weeks you’ve been stuck here, and you can sense that he’s feeling despaired right now from his sudden bout of silence and the way Arthur looked at him with concern in his eyes. The mention of his mother clearly brought all of those emotions to the surface again; the very same emotions you’ve been trying to shove down deep inside and ignore.

It’s been hard trying to remain hopeful that you’ll find your way home again, but it’s been exceptionally harder for Joel to cope considering he actually has a family to go back to. You haven’t seen your family in years. You grew apart after moving across the country as soon as you turned eighteen, and even though you do sort of miss them, you don’t yearn to be reunited with your family like Joel does with his.

Rising to your feet, you walked towards him and reached out to wrap your arms around his body, using your embrace to comfort him. It’s what he so desperately needed right now — comfort and consolation.

Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, causing the man to crumple under the gestures. He lowered his head and looked away, as if he were ashamed to show his teary eyes. The mood had changed so quickly and it’s become evidently clear in your mind that he’s been keeping this bottled up inside.

After a few quiet moments, he gathered himself together before placing his hand over yours. “S’okay.” He muttered while shaking his head. “I’m okay.”

You continued to cuddle him from behind and didn’t let go. And neither did Arthur. He stood closer to Joel and wrapped an arm around your back, as if pulling you both into a warm hug. “Whatever it takes.” He said solemnly. “I’m sorry this happened, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get ya’ll back home.”

Joel turned to look at the man and smiled with respect and gratitude. “Thanks, Arthur. It means a lot and I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for- woah!” He yelled out when his fishing rod damn near slipped out his hands. You could feel the force of the fish biting on the bait as Joel was yanked forward before planting his feet into the ground. “Christ. What kinda fish ya’ll got here?” He asked, but before Arthur could answer, he was yanked forward again and you quickly darted your hands out to hold the rod with him.

“Arthur… I can’t hold….” You giggled relentlessly, struggling to form the words and ask for help when suddenly, Joel was yanked for a third time and it caused you both to fall forward and land in the water. You were drenched and the fishing rod was gone in a matter of seconds. It disappeared into the dark abyss of Owanjilla Lake before you could even think about grabbing it.

“You fucking bastard!” You cursed at the fish between fits of laughter, then quickly got on your feet and moved further into the lake with Joel and Arthur shouting for you to stop. It was an impulse decision to chase it down, even though it was useless. But after catching a glimpse of the fishing rod, you leaped for it and without hesitation, the men rushed in the lake after you.

Together, you all ran around the shallow waters like headless chickens looking for the fishing rod until it got deeper and deeper. The lake wasn’t a huge body of water, but the depth in the middle was so cavernous that you couldn’t see the bottom. It looked like an endless black void and it was eerily frightening as well. You quickly lost sight of the fishing rod and didn’t want to attempt swimming down to the bottom of the lake looking for it.

“Seriously, what kind of fish do ya’ll have out here?” You repeat Joel’s question from earlier as you swim back to the shore. “That fucker has to be twenty pounds at least.”

“I reckon it'll be the legendary smallmouth bass.” Arthur replied. Trudging through the water together, he helped you and Joel to your feet before reeling in his fishing line to take a break. He didn’t want to try his luck again anytime soon and needed to ease the happy cramp in his stomach after laughing so much with you both. It was funny to him watching you chase after a fish, and even more funny to him that he and Joel joined the search.

You walk towards the picnic blanket, feeling defeated and beaten, then sit down to dry off as he explained. “I got a couple maps in my satchel. One is for legendary animals, the other is for legendary fish and the smallmouth bass is here in Lake Owanjilla. They’re rare to find, but worth every penny.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us that?” You looked at him with a facial expression that spoke of shock and slight annoyance. That small detail about a twenty pound legendary fish would have better prepared you and Joel. It wouldn’t have caught you off guard like it just did and maybe you could have saved the fishing rod.

But looking on the brighter side of the whole situation, it distracted Joel perfectly and now he’s feeling happier. You can see it on the man’s face as he smiles and rubs a hand over his stomach, as if easing the discomfort he feels from laughing so much.

“I honestly forgot to mention it.” Arthur palmed a hand through his hair, the locks of wet blonde starting to curl at the ends. He grinned and shrugged timidly under your playful glare, the sight making you break into a smile and roll your eyes. “Alright.” You sighed softly. “I suppose we’ll have to try again with your fishing rod later and see if we get lucky. We’re going to need a bigger bait as well. I’m surprised the bastard even took Joel’s bait.”

“So how do you know that we need a bigger bait if you’ve never fished before?” Arthur questioned, and Joel turned to you with a suspicious look on his face, the stifled smile on his lips making your cheeks burn. They’re onto you. They’re slowly piecing together that you do in fact know how to fish and you lied about it earlier.

You rolled your lips together and waved your hands flippantly, acting like you had no clue what Arthur was talking about when in actuality, you probably know more about fishing than what they both know collectively.

“Ohhh. You little minx.” Joel laughed deeply with merriment. “You played me and Arthur like a fiddle, didn’t yer? Acting like you don’t know how to fish so we’d teach you how to do it. Tsk-tsk-tsk.” He tuts three times and the sound surprisingly turns you on. It’s as if being called out and playfully scolded by the man was exciting and it never dawned on you before just how much you liked that sort of thing. You wonder what else you could do that results in some form of punishment in the bedroom.

A pleasurable punishment delivered by Joel and Arthur at the same time…

Later that evening when the sun was a couple hours away from tucking in the night, you packed everything up from the picnic by the lake and stowed it back on the horses. You’ve had a long and adventurous day, but you’re ready to tuck in for the night too. It’s getting colder and darker by the hour and it’s time to get back to the homestead in Tall Trees.

Making a quick stop into the local town known as Strawberry, you approach the post office with a great sense of pride sitting on your shoulders. You caught the smallmouth bass. It was a big legendary fish indeed that weighed in at a whopping twenty-two pounds and six ounces. It also took Joel and Arthur to lend a hand for you to reel it in, so it was actually a team effort rather than a solo achievement. You caught some other lake fish as well for Joel to cook up for dinner tonight and just the thought of sampling a taste of his cooking is making you salivate.

The reason you’re making a quick stop at the post office however, is to mail the prize fish to Jeremy Gill – a famous fisherman and writer who Arthur met a while back. Arthur sure meets some interesting people out on his travels and the fact he might have seen a UFO doesn’t really seem that far-fetched anymore. You and Joel didn’t believe him at first, but considering the circumstances of how you both got here, it’s nothing out of the ordinary for the cowboy. It’s probably just like any ol’ regular Tuesday for him.

While the man heads inside and conducts his business, you wait outside with Joel. The moon was already starting to make an appearance on the other side of the sky now and the fading transformation of colours was most spectacular to look upon. On one side, it was a deep red and orange, but then on the other side it was a dark purple and blue with a couple sparkling white specks from the stars. It was beautiful, and truth be told, you wouldn’t ever get over how amazingly clear the skies were here. Soon you will be able to see all the stars and constellations again, just like you do every night.

“Hey.” Joel called out gently, and you snapped out of your idolisation of the sky above to look into his warm hazel brown eyes. “Sorry to disturb yer. I know how much you like looking at the night sky.” He chuckled and the sound made you feel warm and fuzzy. “I just wanted to thank you for everything today, doll.”

“It’s ok. I think we all needed that breath of fresh air, you know? So really, it’s ok, hon.” You shrugged it off, appreciating but denying his gratitude because it really was no problem at all about proposing the idea to head out for the day instead of staying back at the homestead like you usually do. You all needed to get out of the house and take a much needed break from everything. But to your surprise, the man reached out to take your hand and insisted that you know what he’s thankful for exactly. “I meant thank you for taking care of me when I broke down, darlin’. I… I really needed that.” He explained.

“Oh.” You sighed quietly. Looking into his eyes with compassion and empathy etched on your face, you can only begin to imagine how much he needed the comfort and reassurance from you and Arthur at that particular moment. He’s been trying so hard to keep himself together for your sake, and it’s only fair he released some of that emotional pain he’s been balling up inside. You’ve never seen Joel cry before, and you don’t ever wish to see it again, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to nor should he feel ashamed to. He is human after all, and everybody finds some form of cathartic release when shedding a few tears. The guise that everything will be okay could only last so long for the man. It was only a matter of time before he broke down, and you’re most grateful to have been there when he really needed you.

Leaning into his side, you rest your cheek against his shoulder and place your hand over his chest, feeling the speedy beat of his heart beneath your palm. He’s worried about the worst case scenario. You can tell because whenever you think about the worse case scenario, it makes your heartbeat erratic too. The thought of never returning home makes you hysterical, so you try your very best not to think about it and remain positive instead. You distract yourself and keep busy, and that’s exactly what he needs right now.

“It’s ok, Joel.” You whispered tenderly then tilted your head upwards to look into his eyes again. “We’ll get through this together. I can’t tell you how exactly, or make everything right again, but you know I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Of course.” He breathed a sigh of relief, as if hearing those words were working to ease his emotional plight. He already knows you’re with him every step of the way, but hearing you say it is what he needed to hear. “And Arthur too.” He added after a moment's reflection, like he was slowly coming to grips with the worse case scenario and accepting the cold hard truth. “He’s always going to be here for us too.”

“Of course.” You reiterated his exact words, like you were also coming to grips with the cold hard truth. It hurts to accept that, but they always said the truth hurts. You need to start thinking about long-term living arrangements here and about building a secure future because the chances of going home are so slim that it seems to be nigh impossible. It’s something you and Joel should have figured out sooner rather than later to save yourselves the let down and disappointment.

But upon looking at the silver lining of things, it couldn’t have been made any more clearer that you and Arthur are Joel’s rock. You’re both someone he can rely on and seek comfort and reassurance from. You and Arthur keep him held together, like you’re the glue mending all of the broken pieces, and they both do the exact same thing for you too. Like they are your rocks, keeping you grounded and mentally sane.

Without Arthur Morgan's gracious attitude toward strangers and his offer to help – even after getting into a brawl with Joel – you both would have been severely broken and hopeless. He’s been keeping you both held together, and when the man finally exited the post office without a letter from Francis Sinclair, you looked at him and smiled with teary eyes for the debt that could never be repaid. He saved your lives, and you’d forever be filled with gratitude for that.

“Alright, who’s ass do I gotta kick for making our gal cry?” He asked Joel, and you would have giggled at his question to show that you’re crying happy tears, but the use of ‘our girl’ was making your stomach flutter. It made you feel equally loved by Joel and Arthur. Not more or less, just an equal and powerful amount of love from both of them. But because of the stupefied look on your face and the sound of your silence, Joel replied to the man for you. “Well, that would be your own ass, sunshine.” He chucked before wrapping an arm around your back. “We’re just really happy to have you with us, Arthur. I don’t even know where we’d be right now without yer and I’m glad we’re all together.”

Taking the words right out of your mouth, the man couldn’t have articulated it better. It was true. You wouldn’t know where you’d be right now and you’re most glad to have each other. Arthur really absorbed Joel’s words and started to blush with flattery. His cheeks were burning redder than a tomato as he perched both hands to his hips and timidly shuffled on his feet. “Oh, you’re too kind.” He said before approaching his horse and mounting the saddle. “A man like me doesn't deserve good people like ya’ll in my life.”

“Why? Because you’re a thief who steals from wealthy people who don’t deserve it?” You chimed in now and leaned over to squeeze his bicep. “Don’t put yourself down like that, Arthur. You’re a good man with a big heart and we’ve been thinking…” Looking into Joel’s eyes, he nods in your direction with approval for what you’re about to say. “...I think it’s time we start looking for long-term living arrangements and we’d like you to stay with us, or if your gang would allow it, maybe we could stay with you.”

Arthur turned to look at you both now with hope in his eyes. “Really? Y-you and Joel?”

“Yes.” Joel answered the man, then sighed heavily. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be headin’ home, so whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us.” He chuckles softly and begins to accept the cold hard truth that this is his life now. “We’re with you till the end of the line, Arthur… Me and Y/N, if you’ll have us.”

“B-Both of you?” He asked timidly, his eyes darting between you both before he looked at Joel’s lips, the action making the man burn up with a blushing smile. It made you smile too because it isn’t just some adventurous no strings-attached kind of sex between three people, two of whom have never explored the act of love with the opposite sex before, but it’s becoming something serious and romantic. It’s quite obvious that Arthur doesn’t just want you both to stick around and become a part of his life, but he wants you both intimately.

And from the way Joel winked at Arthur, he did too.

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tiredcowpoke · 1 year ago

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REGARDING THE SINCLAIRS [6]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Request: Not a request. Previous part: [X] Blurb: You had always assumed the stories of time travel in your family were just that. Stories. At worst, maybe an inside joke. However, your world starts to shift when your grandfather leaves his home to you in his will. The old Sinclair house, one that has been passed down for generations. Taking up the task of moving into and upgrading the home, a man dressed like he just stepped out of a western arrives, unconscious, on your porch with a letter in his hand. Warnings: Death, existential themes, angst. Note: Catching up Tumblr to the AO3 version of this since I plan on trying to pick this back up. Sorry about that.

Between the driving and the late night chat from the night before, you found yourself carrying a sluggishness that you couldn’t shake off.

Thankfully, the roads weren’t too crowded as you drove up toward Beaver Hollow, Arthur sitting quietly in the passenger seat as he watched the trees pass. You tried not to show it, but you could feel yourself gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly than you needed to. You couldn’t help it–this situation was so strange. You were about to bring a historical figure to his last known location and eventually his own grave. Sci-fi was not your usual choice of genre, but you were sure there were probably some movies about why this was a bad idea.

Or nothing would happen. You really didn’t know. You weren’t Francis, who seemed to have the answers you needed. Some of them, at least.

The forests up near Roanoke Ridge were always a little foreboding, and Arthur had remarked that it was worse back in his own time. He didn’t elaborate any further, but you could imagine. There hadn’t been a ton of development in the state, but it had a few old towns and the mine served as a historical landmark. Aside from lumber, the tourist-y nature of the area must have given the residences enough to survive. Somewhat jokingly, you almost offered up going to the mine instead, but knew better.

This was for Arthur. He believed he needed it, and you supposed it was your job to go along with that.

Finally, you arrived at the small, dirt paved parking lot. You had no issue finding a spot, considering there seemed to be only one other car there. Cutting the engine, you let out a small sigh before glancing toward Arthur in the passenger seat.

“Last chance to turn back,” you said, meeting his gaze with a small grin.

“Came this far,” Arthur remarked, holding your gaze for a moment before he huffed, “‘Sides, it looks like you’re the one who’s more worried ‘bout this.”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a small chuckle, turning to glance out the windshield, “I mean…I figure there’s got to be some sort of…time travel rule against something like this.”

“If ya got them rules written down somewhere, I’d love to read them,” Arthur commented, finally releasing his seat belt before opening the passenger door, “C’mon.”

You stared at him from your seat for a few moments, almost wanting to laugh. For once, it seemed he was encouraging you to try something instead of the other way around. His relaxed nature about this whole thing was a little odd, but you figured he either hid his worries really well or maybe you really were worrying over nothing. Not that there weren’t a number of concerning things about the situation.

Finally, you got out of the car, shutting and locking the doors behind you before turning to head toward the opening of the site. The place seemed quiet, and you figured the early morning was a good choice to make sure there wouldn’t be too many people around. Someone recognizing Arthur…well, you had to assume their first conclusion wouldn’t be ‘time traveler’ but you didn’t want to risk that.

It was just you, Arthur, and a tired looking ticket sales assistant. She wasn’t exactly chatty, but she didn’t regard either of you with more than a somewhat sleepy glance before taking your money and pointing toward the entrance of the site. You led Arthur toward the area, stepping through a small, wooden gate before the replica of the camp stood before you.

It hadn’t changed much since you were a high-schooler. The wagons were worn, looking a little older than they did in your memory and in the pictures you saw on the website. There was a small campfire in the middle, surrounded by chairs. The replica of Dutch’s tent near the mouth of the cave, a few ropes and guiding signs leading down into the depths where you knew an exhibit on the Murfree Brood was. You shifted, glancing toward Arthur as he stepped by you, walking slowly forward a few steps before looking around. You watched him carefully, but he was difficult to read at that moment.

“Looks…” he started after a few moments, clearing his throat somewhat before continuing, “strange like this. Empty.”

“Yeah. They try to put everything how it was, but with how untouched everything is…” you replied, stepping forward to stand beside him.

“Pearson’s wagon is in the wrong spot,” Arthur commented, gesturing toward where a small info stand was, “It’s supposed to be there. Horse posts a little up toward that fence…”

“Can’t get everything right,” you said, “Most of it was based on your journal. I think your wagon has more information on this camp and the other ones you stayed in.”

“Who took my journal?” he asked, sounding vaguely offended, which made you hold back a small chuckle.

“I think a museum in New Austin has the physical rights to it, but they let affiliate sites use a virtual copy of it for research and reconstruction like this,” you explained, “I…I guess it’s weird to have your personal thoughts just out in the open like that, but it’s a good source of information.”

“Whole thing’s strange,” Arthur commented, finally shifting to move toward some of the wagons.

You trailed after him, not too sure what your role was in all of this. You figured you would just try to answer whatever questions he might have and just let him explore what was left of the camp. Plus, it was still an interesting site now that you weren’t an impatient kid just wanting to move on from the educational portion of the trip.

Arthur didn’t say much for a while, walking carefully as he took in the wagons and tents. He pointed out little inaccuracies in the layout, but otherwise he just seemed to be taking it in. You didn’t really want to press him for his thoughts, but it was interesting to see him take it in. Naturally, your curiosity got the better of you and you stepped under the tarp of the replica of his wagon, peering over the small table near the cot. Of course, the top of the table was encased in glass to avoid damage to the items there, but you curiously looked them over.

Some books on plants and nature, a cigarette carton with a brand that you were unfamiliar with, some everyday items–tonics, mostly.

“Did they get your favorite genre right?” you asked when Arthur finally joined you, peering over your shoulder for a moment.

“More or less,” he muttered, letting out an almost bitter huff, “Guess they didn’t know enough ‘bout my mama’s flower to try to recreate that.”

“Flower?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod, “I, uh…used to pick a fresh one whenever we’d be out near California and put it in a jar. Always kept it on or near this table.”

You nodded lightly at that, taking in the rest of the wagon. They had a few other personal items–the photos you saw on the internet when you sought them out that first night while he was passed out in your living room. For a moment, you grew nervous that somebody might put the pieces together like you did if you stayed too long. Still, the area seemed quiet enough for now that you figured you could take the drive up to his grave and you could spend as much time as you wanted there. Most people preferred the little historical sight and exploring the cave at Beaver Hollow.

Still, it was odd to hear Arthur talk about his space in his own words. The familiarity and intimacy clearly lacked in a place like this, but he seemed to take in the photos on his wagon with an unreadable expression before he stepped back to wander toward the center of the camp.

“Don’t know why they decided to preserve this,” Arthur said after a few moments, gesturing around him, “There’s plenty of places we stayed in out east and more out west that ain’t Beaver Hollow. Ain’t got good memories here.”

“Well…” you started, tucking your hands into your pockets as you approached him more. Really, you weren’t too sure how to put this without sounding harsh. “It’s not everybody, but a lot of people are…curious about the downfall of the Van der Linde Gang. Being able to stand in their last known location where they were…sort of whole…it appeals to a lot of people.”

“It appeal to you?”

“Not particularly…” you replied, taking in his expression. Arthur was keeping his face even, but you could tell there was something in his eyes. “I was more interested in the middle ages, anyway.”

Despite the heaviness to this whole experience, your statement managed to pull a smile from him but otherwise he didn’t say anything for a short while. He didn’t move any further to take in more structures, though you noticed how his gaze lingered on Dutch’s tent–his and Arthur’s were the closest replicas the park managed to make, according to their own statements about their park anyway. Yet, Arthur couldn’t seem to bring himself to look inside it, but he did stare at it for a few moments.

“Guess I seen what we came here to see,” Arthur spoke up after the heavy silence, glancing back toward you, “This place…just feels weird, anyway.”

“I know they let you down into the cave,” you said, gesturing toward the mouth of said cave at the back of the camp, “I think they got an exhibit on the Murfree Brood.”

“I seen more than enough of them bastards in my time,” Arthur replied, turning to head back toward the gates to the historical site. Given the dismissal, it left you to awkwardly follow him back out to the parking lot.

You weren’t too sure what to say to him–how to comfort him, if he needed it. While you were never the quickest to offer your shoulder, you felt a little helpless in the face of…all of this. Still, Arthur seemed adamant about seeing his own grave. After his demeanor in Beaver Hollow, you weren’t sure what to expect with that.

****

Despite the questions and comments he had been making, Arthur was nearly silent on the drive up toward his grave site. It wasn’t a terribly long drive from Beaver Hollow, which added up with his escape from the camp at the end of his life. At least, the end of his life up until now, you supposed. As much as questions swirled in your head, how much you wanted to ask if he was doing okay, you decided to let him have his thoughts. As much as you were living together, and not exactly under circumstances that were decisions of yourself or Arthur, you didn’t want to push him. You didn’t know if you had the right to, if you even wanted to.

There were a few signs put up by the park that pointed you toward the grave site, the roads getting more winding and twisting the closer you got to your destination. The feeling in your gut almost matched the layout of the road before you, that nervousness returning. More so for Arthur than being seen by other people. You didn’t want to just lead him into a mental breakdown.

You let out a breath, deciding to break off the silence as you pulled up toward another small dirt parking lot next to a small hiking path.

“I know I sound like a broken record–that I’m repeating myself, but…are you sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, not meeting your gaze as you pulled into a space and parked the car, “Came all this way, didn’t we?”

“The day’s still young,” you replied, “We could head into Annesburg, go explore the mine…”

“I don’t want to see no mine…” Arthur muttered, pushing open the passenger door before stepping out. Your brow furrowed as you watched him, but otherwise you cut the engine and stepped outside to join him.

You led the way up the path, knowing it was still a couple more minutes away but Arthur otherwise didn’t make any other conversation and you were a little too nervous to try to do so. You could feel the morning sun on your skin as you continued up the path, feeling your exhaustion and the fact that you hadn’t packed any water for this. It was a beautiful bit of country, at least. Less so the tourist trap that was Beaver Hollow and more so like a quick stop you’d make off the side of the road on a trip.

Eventually, you reached the grave. There was a small sign with an inscription explaining what you were looking at and who Arthur was. It was brief with general information–the year of his birth and death, his role in the gang, and a mention of his battle with Tuberculosis near the end of his life.

The headstone itself was faded and in need of repair, though you could make out Arthur’s name and part of the scripture that had been inscribed on the cross. There were some ropes around the site to keep people from both falling and stepping on the grave itself, not that it stopped people from trying to dig it up over the years. Looking for buried money or even morbid curiosity. Yet, you held back that remark from leaving your mouth, as you doubted it would be all that nice of him to hear.

“Here it is…” you said once Arthur stepped up beside you.

“...Nice country out here. I can think of worse places I could’ve been buried,” Arthur commented, “You know who did it?”

You had to think for a moment, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to pick your brain for some of the stories your father and grandfather told.

“I think it was said in one of Jack’s books that his father mentioned it being Charles Smith,” you replied, finally turning your head to glance toward him.

Arthur nodded lightly, a small, tight grin crossing his face. “He’s a good man. Always has been. Or…well, y’know what I mean.”

You had immediately caught onto his use of present tense when talking about him, but apparently Arthur caught it too as he tossed his arm up in frustration as he backed away from his grave a few steps. He leaned against a nearby wooden pillar that closed in the small grave site on the cliff, staring at his grave for a few moments. The look on his face pulled at you–the lost look in his expression, the tension in his face from holding back what you assumed was some sort of grief. How could he not be feeling that?

“Arthur…” you started, but he spoke up before you could form a sentence in your head.

“This is…this is it, I guess. All that’s left of me. Never wanted some damn legacy, but guess it’s…strange to know.” He paused, letting out a heavy breath as you took a couple steps toward him. “Everybody I ever known. Just…gone. Lived out their lives, some of them probably a hell of a lot better than me…”

“I can’t even imagine…�� you offered up in the way of condolences, Arthur removing his gaze from the grave and met yours.

“Why me?” he asked, putting a heavy feeling in your gut. “Could’ve been any of us. Jack, Mary-Beth, Tilly, Karen–hell, even those who died ‘fore the gang fell. Hosea. Sean. Lenny.”

“I wish I had an answer. I truly do,” you said, looking down at your shoes for a moment, “Francis…he made this decision. He’s the only one who would know, and I doubt he left anything for me to piece together about why…”

“Feels more like a punishment than a reward for helpin’ him,” Arthur muttered, making you nod lightly. You could see why he’d feel that way, especially with the scene in front of him. The reality he found himself in.

“He did give you a second chance…” you started, finally moving to lean against the fence he was situated against, “Might not seem like all that great of a gift he gave you right now, but…I mean, you can live a better life here, right? Could settle down with someone, find a job you enjoy–hell, you could even just enjoy the wonders of modern medicine.”

“I didn’t ask for no damn second chance,” Arthur stated, pushing himself off the fence.

“I…” you started, finding the words falling short. Really, you had no idea how to handle this.

“Can we head back into town?” he asked, glancing back at you, “I’ve seen all I wanna see and I’m starvin’.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You pushed yourself off the fence as well, lingering by his grave as you watched him start to walk back down the path. You let out a slow breath, wanting more than anything to give him some comfort. Yet, you wouldn’t even know where to begin. To even fathom the idea of losing everybody you ever loved seemingly overnight, losing the life you had previously, the land you once knew suddenly foreign and thrown centuries into the future. What could anybody say to help in that situation? You had no damn clue.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you shook your head as you started to follow down after him.

“Thank you so fuckin’ much, Great Uncle Francis,” you whispered.

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader

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salems-slashers · 2 years ago

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About Me/Rules and Regulations

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Hello everyone! My name is Salem, and I (ofc) adore slashers and writing. So why not combine them!

Slashers I write for:

Francis Dolarhyde (any movie/show/book)

Hannibal Lector (any movie/show/book)

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Michael Myers (only og version)

Jason Voorhees

Freddy Krueger

Tomas Hewitt/Leatherface

Billy Lenz (original)

Ghostface (Billy Loomis/Stu Macher/Mickey Altierie)

Tiffany Valentine

Kurt Kunkle

Pinhead

Norman Bates

I'll add more if I can think of them. Otherwise, feel free to ask about someone if they're not on the list :3

What I won't write for:

I will not write anything for any kind of illness, physical or mental disorders. I just don't feel like I am good at writing that stuff. Maybe it will change and I will take it off this list, but for the time being it's going to stay on.

Male readers

Any request where the reader has a super detailed description (although if it's vague it is OK, for instance: "x reader with really long hair" is absolutely OK!)

Anything akin to Pedophilia or incest

Piss or shit kink, or anything else like it.

What I will write:

Headcanons, fics, or drabbles. If you are requesting something, please let me know what format you want it in.

Smut, NSFW 🔞, or NSFW alphabets

Fluff is always good too lol

I'm not super good at angst but I would like to get better at it, so it is on this list

Anything that isn't on the previous list is OK to request. Although if I feel uncomfortable with an ask I will reserve the right to delete it or leave it unanswered until I feel better about writing something for it.

#slasher x reader #requests open #Request rules and regulations #Salems rules

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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What it’s like to get drunk with a few under-loved RDR characters:

Black Belle, Flaco Hernández, Maggie Fike, Francis Sinclair, Hamish Sinclair, Micah Bell, Bill Williamson, Susan Grimshaw, and Kieran Duffy. Gender neutral reader :0)

Black Belle: Oh, she LOVES to tell stories; it doesn't matter what it's about, Belle will get up and really get into character when it's story time. She loves gossiping, bitching about her ex's, prying into your private life, etc. Belle is quite the woman, and becomes tenfold when she's drunk. She's loud and proud, quick to anger, but also quick to laugh. If you take her into town then your night will either end in a hotel room, or nursing her wounds after she punches a man for looking at her funny. Flaco Hernández: Flaco's a loud mouth when he's sober, but when that man is drunk, you'll need to plug your ears. He laughs at almost everything, a deep and chesty chuckle that can be heard throughout all of town. He's surprisingly quite the pacifist, and would much rather make friends than enemies, but if a fella keeps getting on his nerves then he'll happily mop the floor with them. He'll also flirt with you, it doesn't matter who you are, Flaco suddenly loses all his self-doubt when he's drunk, and just wants to bat his lashes and hope you'll at least sit on his lap. Maggie Fike: Like Belle, she's a tough cookie who knows her worth. She may be your boss, but she's instantly your best friend once she's had a few shots of moonshine. Maggie is a mother hen, she'll beat a fella with her cane if they simply bump into you; she may be an old woman, but she knows how to brawl better than most men out there. She also knows how to hold her liquor, and can easily outdrink any fella in the saloon. She is a moonshiner, after all. Francis Sinclair: Oh, do you struggle to understand Francis to begin with? well, you're going to be completely clueless once he's drunk. Francis is a fast talker, tenfold when he's tipsy, and completely incomprehensible when he's drunk. He's very theatrical, he talks so much with his hands that it's hard to focus on what he's actually saying, you're so captivated by how much his body moves. Francis loves to gossip, to chit chat, and won't really open up about himself unless he's several gins deep.

Hamish Sinclair: It's sometimes hard to tell when Hamish is starting to feel the liquor, but you know he's on track the second he brings up his past. He enjoys getting things off his chest, and encourages you to do the same. He'll often rant and ramble about his younger days, how he lost his leg, how much he struggled before he brought his prosthetic, etc. Hamish also dishes out advice, but in ways you don't always realize; you'll wake up the next day feeling like a new person, eager to improve for the better, simply because Hamish has subconsciously given you solid advice. Micah Bell: Annoying. This man is a nuisance no matter what, but he's practically a parasite whilst drunk. He's never itching to start a fight, but he'll jump in whenever he sees one, even if he doesn't know any of the men brawling. He's flirty, but also extremely protective of whomever he's out drinking with. Micah loves to laugh, he loves to giggle like a schoolgirl over the slightest of things, his cheeks flushed red, and his pupils blown and drawn to you. He's full of cheesy pickup lines, but can rarely get hard when he's drunk. Bill Williamson: Bill has two drunk moods: fight mode, and giggle mode. He'll flick between the two within a moments notice, but it's easy to calm him out of a fight if you're close with him. Bill just wants to have fun, even if the man can barely string a sentence together, and falls asleep easily whilst drunk. His emotions are heightened when there's liquor in his veins, so if a very drunk Bill starts crying on your shoulder about his past, then just give him a cuddle and let him doze off in your arms. Susan Grimshaw: She loves to sing, she loves to dance, she loves to reminisce about the old times. Susan is the perfect drinking buddy; she's always on the same wavelength as you. Susan has no problem putting a fella back in their place, and will often step in before you can even process what's happened, whenever anybody does the smallest thing, such as bumping into you. On the rare occasion where Susan is blackout drunk, she'll confess how much you mean to her, and how glad she is that she's met you, but she'll never remember the interaction. Kieran Duffy: He's a lightweight, he'll be staggering around and struggling to sit upright within the first few sips of his drink. Kieran is surprisingly confident, and will blurt out a compliment here and there, but his face will turn white once that comment has escaped his lips. He often feels 100 emotions at once, and it's very obvious how quickly his mood changes; talk to him about something he's passionate about to instantly calm him down, and to set him off on a long tangent that you'll probably fall asleep during.

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whiskehorange · 2 years ago

Note

NSFW: Bo sinclair, Michael meyers, Francis Dolarhyde, art the clown, doomhead cockwarming HC’s (if you’re not comfortable with this one I understand)

your asks are always immaculate 💋 also there are no "sexy" gifs of art like these other fine gentleman. Only cracked out hoe

Honestly, this is one of Bo's favorite pass-times to do with you, especially when neither of you feel really up to doing any of the work. He's oddly soft with you, but still vocally very degrading, if you can really call it that. Bo is a perfect mixture of praise and degrading, mixing in both when you're sitting in his lap all pretty. He'll gently fun his calloused hands up and down your hips and back and may occasionally give you a kiss, but he doesn't want to get too worked up in front of you, but he knows he can take it if he really wants to, especially seeing how antsy he makes you. Often times, he'll hold your face and insist you keep eye contact with him as he shifts his hips.

Michael

Michael does not play when it comes to having himself deep inside you and takes full control of when and how you move on him. He keeps a firm grip on your hips as you straddle him, lying your head on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat quickly spike as you move gently, only to lower when you still yourself. Michael can keep his composure for quite a long time and will most likely not give in to going any further just to spite you. It's comforting to him and he wouldn't have it any other way, he enjoys feeling this close to you... and your warmth around him. It's his choice, however, if you're able to get up or not. He'll be the one to call it quits.

Francis

Francis is nervous. Well, more skeptical and fidgety, especially to have you so close to him like this. He isn't sure how to react to your typical touch and affection let alone you pressed against the chest as you slowly guide him in. You'll hear him hiccup in awe, his breath hitching as he takes in all of your warm around his cock but also as you lie with your back against his chest, your slow breathing guiding him to so that same. But remember, he's fidgety, he's wondering if he's doing it right or doing anything wrong. Francis isn't bound to last very long but tries to hold out the best he can, but the amount of years he's gone without this kind of contact makes it hard for him not to take this chance with you deliciously giving yourself to him.

Art

Now, when it comes to someone really being antsy, it's Art. It's not that he's nervous, God no, he's the exact opposite. If you think that Art has any ounce of restraint in his body you're far from wrong. While he still does enjoy the thought and idea of have his dick inside you, there's no way he can only do that. Art fuels his own horniness a majority of the time by groping you, licking up yours spine, or face, depending on which way you're facing and really enjoying the moment. However, it still doesn't last long for him to start taking more control of the movement.

Doomhead

Yeah sure, but don't go whining when he decides he's had enough and wants to leave. It's just another sex thing to him, but nonetheless it's sex, right? While he prefers much more movement and noise, occasionally he'll give in if the two of you actually have the time to lie down together. He doesn't touch you too much and can hold himself back great, but he'll keep an arm around you and go about whatever he's doing, letting a few dirty comments about how pathetic you look when you shuffle around on him. Eventually, he'll push you off whenever he's had enough.

#bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #michael myers x reader #halloween #francis dollarhyde x reader #hannibal #silence of the lambs #art the clown x reader #terrifier #doomhead x reader #31 #slasher x reader

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casualpersonapersonpeach · 3 years ago

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Rules for requests of headcannons/drabbles

- NO minors! (this is an 18+ account)

- NO non con/r*pe, p*edophilia, abusive themes

- feel free to add preferred pronouns, sexuality etc

- Angst, fluff is ok! Or anything like that, my smut writing is not up to scratch yet lol

Slashers i will write for:

- Michael Myers (OG, Peepaw) [halloween]

- Bubba sawyer [texas chainsaw massacre]

- Thomas Hewitt [texas chainsaw massacre]

- Jason Voorhees [friday the 13th]

- Bo Sinclair [house of wax]

- Vincent sinclair [house of wax]

- Lester Sinclair [house of wax]

- Brahms Heelshire [the boy 2016]

- Daniel Robitaille [candyman]

- Hannibal Lecter (OG, Nbc) [hannibal, hannibal NBC]

- Francis Dolarhyde (OG, Nbc) [red dragon 2002, hannibal NBC]

- Frederick Chilton (OG, nbc) [hannibal NBC, silence of the lambs]

- Leslie Vernon [behind the mask; the rise of Leslie Vernon]

#texas chainsaw massacre #friday the 13th #house of wax #halloween #matchups #headcanon #x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #bubba sawyer #daniel robitaille #michael myers #vincent sinclair #jason voorhees #brahms heelshire #hannibal lecter #francis dolarhyde #leslie vernon

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voxmortuus · 3 years ago

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A Familiar World

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Modern F!Reader

Universe: Red Dead Redemption 2

Words: 1.2k

Prompt: @mesangelique A modern reader brought in the past by one of the rock pictures (Francis Sinclair) finding a dying Arthur on the cliff and bringing him in their cabin to take care of him, managing to save him and eventually both falling in love with each other and having S3X.

GIF Credit: Pinterest

My Masterlist | Taglist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

"God damn it, I was so comfortable." You groan as you push yourself out of bed to get up to use the bathroom for what felt like the umpteenth time. You open your bedroom door and you feel this odd breeze, the smell was so different, the floor felt different. You open your eyes and look down, and then quickly look up to see Francis Sinclair standing there, you jump back a bit, your heart pounding.

"AHA! IT WORKED! I KNEW IT!" He laughs and looks at you.

"Where the fuck am I?" you demand.

"What year are you from again?" He asks you.

"AGAIN? What year are you from!?" You demand to know.

"1899... What yea-"

"1899... you're fuckin kidding me!" You exclaimed. Looking around you start to stumble around, trying to find something but you're unsure. You pinch yourself, but you're still there. Letting out a heavy breath you start to wander off.

"You don-"

"HUSH FUNNY MAN!" You hell back as you start to wander off trying to find your way but it was dusk and the sun was starting to set. You got a good distance before you started to run out of breath, looking around you hear a man who seems to be in pain. Looking around you see a man on the edge of a cliff and run to help him. Instinctively you bring up up a hill to a cabin. Looking around the cabin seems to be unoccupied. Though the funny thing is the moment you enter, it's like you've been here before, it's like this is something you would have. Your mind feels fuzzy eventually things become second nature to you.

You take Arthur to a cot you have in a spare room and lay him down and tend to his wounds, getting them clean. You pull the blanket over him and sit in the kitchen, flipping open a silver box you look at the unfiltered cigarettes and shrug. "Well, you only live once." you tell yourself taking a long drag after lighting it with a candle and cough heavily and take another drag. "I could get used to this..." You chuckle looking around you walk to a master bedroom after pushing yourself out of a chair with the filterless cigarette between your lips and find a closet full of clothing. You take a seat on the bed and finish your cigarette and put it out in the tray by the bed and look at the closet. Shrugging you strip down and get into the times with the clothing.

"Oh this is not comfortable. So many damn layers!" You snarl as you slip into something a little easier and let out a breath. Making your way to the kitchen again, you sit at the table and watch the man from the chair. With your head in your hands, you drift into a soft quiet sleep.

Jolting yourself awake you look around and it's morning. Looking around you let out a breath. "Arthur, what are you doing?" you ask, how you knew his name you furrow your brow.

"Walking, what does it look like?" He asks with a soft grunt.

"You were hurt, Are you feeling better?"

"Girl, did you hit your head?" He chuckles, your brow furrows again and you get up walking him back to the bed. Had you hit your head? You were wearing something different, but this feeling that you had taken care of him this whole time had rushed over you. As you stand up to take his arm to escort him back to bed you get flashbacks. Tending to his every wound, the look in his eyes. You set him down and open his shirt and look over his face. You rest your hand on his chest and look at him.

"Your wounds look good Arthur." You state softly. He smiles back at you and touches your leg his hand running up your leg gripping slightly.

Biting your lip you look over his face, feeling this feeling of a connection you lean in and kiss him softly. His arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer, he untucks your blouse and his warm rough hand caresses the small of your back and he leans in a bit more into the kiss and your hands press on his shoulders as he pulls you onto the bed. He doesn't break from the kiss, in fact, he deepens the kiss and you move your hips up into him a bit moving back onto the pillow. With one hand supporting him beside your head you look over his face and kiss his strong arms, while the other hand is sliding under your skirt. You let out a jagged breath as you feel him touch your skin. A shiver quakes over you and you reach down to undo his belt and his pants.

Smiling he looks over your face and you feel him in your hand after you release him from his pants. Biting your lip you lean up and kiss him, holding him in your hand as you move your hand back and forth, he groans in your mouth. You shiver, feeling yourself quake and quiver with want. You move him to your entrance and he lets out a low grunt as he slowly pushes himself into your warm wetness.

Your back arches a bit as he slowly begins to thrust, letting out a soft moan he takes your hands into his and pins them on either side of your head as his hips move into your buckling ones as he slowly fucks you. You feel this sensation wash over you with so much want and need for this man you hardly know but feel deeply for. Your legs wrap around his waist digging your heels into the small of his back and he picks up speed. Your breathing picks up and your muscles restrict around his hard cock.

"Fuck." He groans. "You feel so good." He groans again.

"Oh, Arthur, don't stop." you beg softly as you grind your hips against him, almost begging for more.

He moves to an elbow letting go of your hand as he kisses your neck and a hand tangled in your hair as he starts to pick up speed, causing you to massage his cock with your muscles.

"Keep that up girl and you're going to make me cum." He tells you.

"I can't help it, you feel so good." You whimper, biting your lip you breathe heavily as you move your body with his, a free hand of his slips under your shirt caressing your breast playing with your nipple and you let out a heavier moan. "Oh fuck." You moan louder.

"Hold on girl, not yet." He tells you.

Picking up speed the bed begins to smack against the wall. Your body quakes with the feeling of needing his finish. You bite your lip letting out a heavy groan. "I can't wait anymore Arthur, I'm going to cum." You moan.

"Come on girl, cum on my cock." He feels you quake, your pussy pulsating around his cock. "Atta girl. Cum for me." He coaxes you.

Your body wastes no time before it finishes hard, feeling him finish with you his cock twitches inside you pulsating with you as he lets out a heavy grunt and pushes deeper inside you. He lets out a heavy breath as he slowly pulls from you and looks over your face. "I feel better now." He smirks.

"Good... Breakfast?" you smile with a soft chuckle.

"Home?" He asks you.

Nodding your head. "Home."

"Breakfast sounds good." He smiles.

TAGGING: @haveyouseengavin, @mesangelique

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bagelboys-withcreamcheese · 4 years ago

Note

Consider..TimeTraveler!Reader that goes in various adventures in different time periods (they even have a cool face scar from the time they were attacked by a pack of Deinonychus while in the early Cretaceous period), and while in 1899 they come across the Van der linde gang and is like "These guys have pretty cool vibes I'm gonna hang with them for a while" and that's it that's the entire plot. | -Lightbulb Anon|

•Muscle. I don’t care whether this reader is male or female, they are ripped. Fighting dinosaurs from the Cretaceous period, Aliens from billions of years in the future (just go with it), and knights from medieval times will do that to you (they travel around)

•John and TimeTraveler!Reader bonding over their scars since they are kinda similar. They won’t admit it but they’re both insecure about it and it’s nice to have someone who knows what it’s like.

•TimeTraveler!Reader having a strong bond with Jack (Of course). Jack loving the Readers stories and the Reader loving to tell them.

•They’re the strong silent type at first, after getting close to the gang is when they let their walls down. Lots of sarcasm. Kinda act like Captain Jack Sparrow but less drunk.

•Forming a small book club with Hosea and Mary-Beth (Dutch acts like he thinks it’s stupid but is secretly jealous), Hunting trips with Charles that end with watching herds of buffalo or stargazing, teaching Pearson how to cook properly so the stew doesn’t taste like shit (Gordon Ramsay would still yell at him though), drawing things from your travels with Arthur (he especially likes the ones from your visits to Egypt and Pompeii).

•Teaching Javier how to play songs from different timelines, Renegades by X Ambassadors is the camp favorite.

•The paleontologist lady, Deborah MacGuiness, the one who Arthur finds dinosaur bones for? Absolutely adores the reader and could talk to them about dinosaurs for hours (Which they did. Arthur practically had to drag them away).

•The other time traveler, Francis Sinclair? The reader knew he was a TimeTraveler as soon as he started talking. Did they say anything? Nope.

•TimeTraveler!Reader has tried to kill Micah 7 times. The closest call was when they strung him up by his feet and left him hanging from a tree just outside of camp (Hosea found him unconscious when he went for one of his walks to get away from camp, he almost left him there but his damn conscience got the best him)

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toongrrl-blog · 4 years ago

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Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s.

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons).

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd.

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season.

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy.

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves.

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses.

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate.

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered.

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was.

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men.

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function.

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner.

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband.

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy.

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents.

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”.

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper.

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome.

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts.

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s.

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!).

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor.

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are.

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife.

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case.

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed.

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off. As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies).

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him).

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family.

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings.

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring.

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here.

Also points on that bolder shade of pink.

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point).

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent.

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly.

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on.

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition.

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