#house of wax doctor sinclair

[barenecessiteas]

So I'm really not a writer on here, but I keep thinking of a bunch of headcanons about the Sinclairs in House of Wax. I think a lot of people aren't gonna agree, but I like adding layers and complexity to people' characters. And since I do mention Bo's abuse and scars I'll put it under the cut if people don't wanna see it. I'll do this in parts, but still this is gonna be long cuz I need to get all of this out of my head LMAO. First up is Trudy and Victor. Hope you enjoy 😊

Trudy & Victor

This section is mostly where I think people will disagree with me but here it goes - I don't think Trudy & Victor were *entirely* terrible parents. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't make the abuse any less horrifying or unacceptable, but like I said, I like to believe they're more complex than just plain evil

Now with my rant out of the way, onto the actual headcanons lol

Trudy picked out the names for the twins. She was VERY picky about choosing relatively uncommon names, or rather names that just weren't super popular

She picked Bo's name, Beauregard, because the first thing she said when she saw him for the first time was how beautiful his eyes were. Beauregard means "beautiful gaze" so she thought it fit well

Vincent's name was a compromise she came up with because Victor wanted a son named after him. Trudy adamantly refused because she thought "Victor Jr." sounded ridiculous 💀

Vincent and Victor both mean "to conquer" or "victory", so that's where she got the main idea. It wasn't a super common name, he would still technically be named after his father, and it just so happened to be the name of her favorite artist, Vincent Van Gogh

Victor picked Lester's name when he was born. He did not put nearly as much thought into naming his newborn child as Trudy did with the twins. He deadass just heard the name Lester somewhere and decided he liked it lol

Trudy had terrible postpartum depression after she had the twins. And it was exacerbated by the fact that they were conjoined

She couldn't shake the feeling that there must have been something wrong with HER body that caused them to be conjoined, like she must have done something wrong. She carried that guilt with her for the rest of her life

But instead of, ya know, seeking therapy and proper help, she ended up taking her frustrations out on the kids and Victor

Still, she does genuinely love all her boys, but love alone isn't enough to make you a good parent. She was a perfect example of that

Victor didn't tell Trudy that he was going to do the separation surgery himself. Trudy actually had some sense and wanted to take the babies to a doctor in the city that was properly qualified to perform such an operation

Yes, Victor was a surgeon, but we can see on some of the certificates and degrees in his study that he was only certified in general and vascular surgery. Those definitely aren't the right fields to separate two baby boys conjoined at the head

He waited until Trudy fell asleep one night, insisting that she should rest and he would take care of the boys if they woke up in the middle of the night. Once he was certain she was out cold, that's when he snuck the boys downstairs to separate them. Trudy was absolutely mortified

Both Trudy and Victor did genuinely worry about the boys' quality of life because of the way they were conjoined. But Victor was already used to doing sketchy surgeries on the side, and in his mind he was genuinely trying to help their boys

Trudy had a breakdown when she saw Vincent's little baby face completely wrapped in gauze after the surgery. That moment of holding him for the first time after the surgery was devastating because she felt powerless to help them

She was thrilled that Bo made it out of the surgery pretty unscathed, she never actually held that against him as they grew up. But he was still the victim of her anger anyway

The wax mask for Vincent was Trudy's idea, as I think most of us assumed anyway. When Vincent was around 3, he started asking why his face was so different from Bo's. His exact words as a toddler were "Why my face broken?"

His scars never bothered either Victor or Trudy in terms of appearance. The only thing that actually bothered them about it is that it was a permanent reminder of Victor's botched surgery that Vincent would have to carry for the rest of his life

The boys were identical twins, so she got the idea to start making masks of Bo's face to try to make Vincent feel better. She didn't expect him to become so dependent on it, and she never realized the damage it did to his self esteem

Trudy was kind of a hardass as a parent when any of the kids threw a fit or something. This was the 1970s, it was considered socially acceptable to spank or slap your kids from time to time as discipline. When she'd get overwhelmed with her depression or one of the kids was driving her crazy, that's when she would lash out

Obviously Bo's tantrums were the worst when it came to how she handled them. The highchair with the straps and tape was almost like their twisted version of a "time out"

It forced Bo to stay still, and they assumed that keeping him tied down was the only way to "calm" him because they were so unequipped to handle such frequent and and severe toddler tantrums

Once the boys outgrew the highchairs, Trudy and Victor would force Bo down long enough for them to just restrain him to a regular chair. It didn't have the straps anymore, so they just used a fuckton of duct tape

It did get a little better as the kids got older. Bo got better at hiding his emotions, so he didn't "act out" as much. She would still spank or slap him, Vincent, and Lester when they misbehaved

She did genuinely enjoy taking the boys out places, like the zoo or the park. It was her who took the majority of those pictures we see in the movie. It was partly a coping mechanism so she'd have reminders around the house that they did have happy moments as a family

*Most* of their everyday life was relatively normal, actually. Victor was usually busy with his medical practice, so most of the actual raising fell to Trudy (yet another reason she'd start feeling overwhelmed)

Most days Victor only really saw Trudy and the kids in the morning and in the evening at supper. On the occasional days off he had, he did genuinely enjoy teaching the kids different sports like football and baseball

All the boys do have genuinely fond memories of playing baseball together as a family in the backyard. They stuck with them so deeply because Victor was around so infrequently

Trudy didn't actually get a cyst in her brain, nor did Victor kill himself. Bo made that whole thing up

A clip from an interview with Brian Van Holt (Vince and Bo's actor) has him explaining that Bo pretty much just thought of it in the moment to string Carly and Wade along

I don't really have a headcanon for how either of them died tbh, but Victor did die before Trudy. He has a grave and headstone in the cemetery next to the church in town. The boys try to visit it (along with Trudy's... wax mummy disposition?) for things like Father's Day, Victor's birthday, and holidays

Welp, I think I've tortured you guys enough with my hyper fixation on this movie 🙃 Thanks for humoring me if you actually read this whole thing. I salute you lol

[kissofmourningdeath]

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[About Me]

Idk I'll write if you send me requests. I like marvel, books and sour apple flavored candy.

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Requests?|OPEN|

[charleslee-valentine]

♪ Now when I'm very good, and do as I am told I'm Mama's little angel and Daddy says I'm good as gold

And when I'm naughty and answer back and sass I'm Mama's little devil, and Daddy says I've got the brass. ♪

- What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

~~~~

Fic word count: ~1,600

Warnings: Detailed depictions of child abuse (mental, medical, and physical,) canonical mistreatment of the Sinclair twins, the highchair/restraints being used on Bo, panic attack, near asphyxia, fear of death, smoking, psychological torment, weaponized love, Trudy and Victor Sinclair being horrible parents, childhood mental illness, all hurt no comfort.

~~~~

“Don’t you love your brother, Beauregard?!”

Does he?

Vincent is sitting in his big boy chair in the corner. His hair is parted neatly down the middle, smoothed by Mama’s doting hands and a lipsticked kiss. There’s no mask on his face today. His last one melted.

The brat left in the window where the sun could get it too long.

Not that it’s his fault actually. If the Doc didn’t insist on interrupting breakfast to prod at some scar tissue in Vinny’s nose that was making a whistle sound when he breathed, it wouldn’t have happened. Pulled him away and left his mask where it lie, forgotten for hours while he inspected and snipped the problem away.

And then there was a new issue.

Mama’s mold was still shattered. One problem the Doc’s cold, rough hands couldn’t piece back together into perfection. There's a hero cast somewhere that could make a new mold, but Mama wants a newer one. To replace Vinny’s year four mask.

Every second his scars stay exposed makes him cry. He doesn’t like being stared at and dissected like a bug with its wings pinned.

Bo isn’t in his big boy chair. He’s strapped into the too small highchair. The tray squeezes his stomach and the metal hurts his knees. Not as much as the straps though.

Not as much as his feelings when he’s asked about if he loves his brother.

Of course he does. Vincent is the only one in the house that Bo still trusts. And that means he loves him. Because it isn’t his fault the mask melted. It’s Doc’s. And it’s not his fault about the mold breaking, it’s Mama’s.

And it’s not Vincent’s fault that his face got messed up. That one is Bo’s.

Being a good boy and sitting still and letting Mama get her copy of his face should be just the easiest thing. He’s doing this for his brother. His only friend in the world.

It’s never easy.

Mama makes the mixture in a big bowl, hot water and some powder that turns orange. It’s slimy and smells an awful lot like marshland before a rainstorm. The schlop always feels clammy on his skin. Unpleasantly cold and wet no matter how dry it gets.

“Don’t you move now, Bo. Your papa’ll woop you.”

Lies aren’t allowed in this house, unless it’s ‘I love you.’ So Bo knows she means that threat. He’s got to behave or face worse than this.

Doesn’t mean he just can.

The alginate makes Bo flinch, rocking back to scoot his chair away from the sickening feeling. Mama don’t let up. She scoops up handfuls of it and spreads it on his face like it’s one of her fancy creams. At first she always leaves his eyes out, and his lips, and every time he thinks maybe he got lucky and she ain’t gonna drown him in it.

He’s always wrong to trust Mama.

All it takes is another handful, pressed against his mouth while he tries to scream his protests, but she presses her palm down hard so he can’t open it. Everything’s muffled, bottled up so no one can know.

The mixture sneaks tiny drops past his lips and makes him gag, once, twice- but Mama keeps pressing her clawed hand down until it starts to dry just enough that it holds itself. Then over his eyes it goes.

Bo tries to hold them open, but Mama always knows when he’s gonna do stuff like that. She purses her lips and blows a quick puff of cigarette air, makes him flinch again so his eyes close and she can take advantage of it.

Once it’s dark is when Bo panics for real. The healing wounds on his wrists tear right open again as he thrashes harder. The blood drips slow as honey, pooling around the leather straps holding him down.

It’s moments like this, that Bo questions his trust of Vincent.

Vincent who sits patiently in the corner for Mama to finish her torture so he can get back to being the favorite. Without his mask, he’s not wanted. An ugly, warped thing that needs covering up. Like a weed in the garden. Or a corpse in the Doc’s operating room.

Bo wishes his brother would help him. He wishes his mama would listen and take this stuff off his face. He prays that the Doc won’t come home yet and get mad and make things hurt worse. Or maybe that he won’t come home at all.

Mostly though, his brain is like static. Painful, heated, buzzing tv static burning a hole right through the back of his head. He’s in the middle of it, the dark, and sinking. There’s two little holes for him to breathe through, but he can’t get enough air.

Bo digs his nails into his own palms and draws even more blood, and underneath the sticky shell, he screams. And screams. And screams.

Nobody ever listens.

Mama tugs his messy hair in place of being able to slap his face.

“What did I tell you! Quiet while I finish!”

But there’s not enough air and he needs her to listen. Bo’s going to suffocate and all his mama cares about is making Vincent pretty.

Never learning, never getting used to the constraint, Bo tries to tear his arms upwards from the tape, to dig those blunted nails into Mama’s flesh instead of his own.

He can’t get them to budge.

She just keeps going, either not knowing about the mental threat to her safety or not caring.

The alginate starts to get tacky, so Mama wets strips of plaster gauze, the kind from Doc’s office like he used when he broke Bo’s arm putting him in his restraints a long time ago. Water splashing in a new bowl, rung out of each piece before its placed over top, just makes Bo feel even more like he’s dying. Drops landing somewhere in the abyss, his head underneath the water as he drowns.

Bo wants to die. Or he thinks he is dying anyhow. With the very last strip, Mama covers over his nose too.

Again Bo tries to scream, but barely a groan gets past his sealed lips. The full minute it takes to all harden up is far too long without breathing. What was a completely black void behind his eyes gets sparks of flashing red and white. He’s out of air.

A last effort to get his mama to listen, Bo rocks and slams his back against his highchair, desperately trying to tip it. The impact of the ground would force air back into his lungs.

He feels it start to give way, gravity suddenly weighing more heavily on him, but Mama hisses and rocks him right back upright. Her fault for putting a big kid in a little baby's chair.

Mama peels it all away then. From the outside it’s so easy, to cup the sides of his fake plaster face and ease the two layers back, only a couple scraps left sticking to his skin. She’ll help him clean up later if he’s well behaved at supper maybe.

First thing Bo does now is take a big breath in, but it’s too much at once after so long without air, he coughs, throat raw and dry, making Mama jerk back in disgust from him.

“Did you have to be so dramatic?”

Bo knows he’s crying when the image of his mama turns blurry. His face is already numb and cold and wet, but chest starts heaving with sobs, rising and falling all out of rhythm. Instead of his growling and screaming, Bo wheezes and cries and whimpers, unable to catch his breath, because of the tears this time.

The thing about alginate- it’s very sensitive.

Sure it doesn’t pull too bad once it firms up like jell-o, coming off easy from Bo’s eyelashes and eyebrows without disturbing single hair, but that’s just the thing. The rubbery, weak material ain’t meant to last long. It’ll dry out and shrink in a couple hours anyhow, the whole thing got no real structure.

Mama laid the fresh cast in a box of sawdust to pour plaster in it without spills or damage, and noticed, in the mess of Bo thrashing as it came off, a rip had formed. Right across the middle of his face from the side of his mouth to the opposite side of his nose.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to just patch it when it tore, only for the plaster face to come out warped, cheeks flattened and bumpy, nose crooked. One eye missing. She’d given it to the Doc to dispose of. Familiar story.

Mama clicks her tongue against her teeth, a noise of distaste Bo knows just as well. It sends a cold feeling down his spine, worse than the goop on his face.

“You know I’m gonna have to do that all over again now.”

His wrists won’t stop bleeding. They itch and burn as much as his tearful eyes.

Bo steals a glare over at Vincent in his precious, safe corner. His head down, he’s doodling something. Maybe drawing pretty pictures of Beauregard’s misery. All for himself. Selfish, selfish Vincent, doesn’t help and keeps the pain around as art.

Still, that’s no worse than stealing his brother’s face.

The scar on the back of Bo’s head aches.

“I love you.”

It’s for Vinny. To answer the question, he does love his brother.

Mama answers back, like she belonged between their bond,

“You love me. Well thank God you do.”

Her cigarette ash on his skin hurts worse than the burning in his lungs. The crumbling cherry touches his cheek and leaves a little singe by the corner of his mouth. His own tears soothe it.

Though smoke doesn’t make calming down any easier.

“You best love me, Beauregard. Show me. Be a good boy and sit still.”

[slasher-cam]

Hi lovlies!!

Guys, thank you so much for all the request especially from the poppy playtime fandom!! I just wanted to remind you guys that I alot of other fandoms and i would love if you sent me a request from oneᡣ𐭩

[not-neverland06]

hello, I was wondering if you could do a female reader x Vincent Sinclair. Where the reader is very needy. Like she constantly just wants to be around him. They don't have to be talking just being around him is fine. If you don't write for house of wax that's fine. If you do this thank you. Have a good day!

Thank you for the request, I hope you like it. As I’m posting this I realized I kind of made the reader gender neutral because I never actually used pronouns. 🤍 gn!reader

You’re overwhelming, to say the least.

And that’s being kind. 

Vincent was his mother’s favorite, but even she had to cover his face. She might have favored him over Bo, but she didn’t love him, not the way a mother should. 

At least, that’s what you told him. 

Vincent was never sure if he should believe you or not. Bo had instilled in him that their mother was a saint. It was hard to lose that idealized image of her and replace it with the one you presented. But with the way you clung to him, hovered around him without a word, he started to wonder if maybe you had a point. 

Growing up, he wasn’t allowed to take the mask off. If he had to eat, his parent’s didn’t watch. He didn't know if it’s because he was so grotesque to them or because they couldn’t stand to see their failure. His mother was an artist, his father a doctor, yet somehow, they had created him. Formed him into this ugly and deformed creature. 

He struggled to reconcile with the fact that, maybe, someone truly could love him. He struggled with coming to terms that someone as kind as you, could love him. Most days he didn’t believe you. He would watch you carefully while you sat by his side. 

He waited for the inevitable, a look of disgust, a flinch when he came near. It never happened. He figured you were biding your time, sweetening him up and getting him to trust you before you made your escape. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the victims had done that to him. 

He almost wished he was right, that you were just a liar. He waited for you to slip up so he’d have a reason to keep you here forever in Ambrose. But you never did. Each day, you grew bolder, your presence nearly suffocated him. 

You don’t always touch him, you rarely ever talk. Your days are simply spent lingering around him, watching him work or reading while he sculpts. It’s odd, going from so many years on his own in his workshop to suddenly having a constant presence. 

He wonders why you don’t just go with Bo. He was the more handsome twin, more charming and funny. He could talk, he could walk around without a mask and be comfortable with himself. There was a clear language barrier between you and Vincent. 

His sign language was choppy at best because he’d had to learn it on his own. Bo and Lester learned some for him, but the family was pretty against it. You struggled to decipher his odd language but you still tried. He didn’t understand the effort. There was a “better” brother to choose from and, still, you stuck with him. 

Just as he looks over at you, you move from your spot by his desk. His fingers loosen around the tools in his hand while he watches you. You stretch, back bowing and a low groan leaving you as you finally move for the first time all day. You shoot him a smile before heading up the stairs out of his workshop. 

He stills and listens to the way your footsteps echo across the floorboards above him. You’re in the living room, you give a muffled greeting to Jonesy before heading towards the kitchen. His hands fidget restlessly with his tools but he can’t bring himself to get back to work. 

He hates when you go upstairs without him. He’s worried that one day he’ll hear the door open and close and he won't be able to get upstairs in time to get you back. He worries that he’ll hear Bo and you together upstairs, either in a fight or doing something worse. 

But you always come back. You’re never away from him for longer than you need to be. Your footsteps rush back towards the stairs and he feels some of the tension leave him. 

When you come back downstairs, a plate of food for you both, he pulls your chair closer to him. A silent invitation to stay close, one you eagerly accept. You sit beside him, leaning over his shoulder, and admire the sketches splayed out across his desk. 

You reach out, before he can stop you, and tug at the corner of one, pulling it out from under the others. Your eyes rove over the drawing of yourself, one of you sleeping on the couch he now keeps down here for you. You smile and glance up at him. When you lean forward and press a kiss against his masked cheek he wonders if maybe he needs you around just as much as you need him. 

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

[naruyh]

Lester Sinclair icons?

ʟᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ

from House of Wax (2005) "Trudy and the doctor didn't have two sons. They had three."

✧ Like or reblog!

[small-sinclair]

Musical Muse

Vincent Sinclair x reader

House of Wax Slasher band!au

Tw: Vincent was in a fire (he’s okay), some hints at sex but nothing graphic described, let me know if I missed anything!

A gift for @im-his-druidess and au by @arkunder

It was Vincent’s first night home for a 7-month-tour around North America. Late night FaceTime calls, texts messages, postcards, poems— it was good to see him home. The penciled in a two-week break for Lester’s doctor appointments and for a mental break. It was good to rest and sleep in for a moment. All three of them needed to recover from the accident—

He takes a deep breath and let it out slowly. He won’t dwell on it. Not now at least. Lester is safe and Bo’s hands were healing. That’s all that matters now.

Vincent tried to be quiet when he entered. He hung his base on the hook and stopped to look at the photos of you both. One of you two in the studio, another in a band shirt, and a lovely one of you and him at the alter, saying your vows.

As soon as he heard your footsteps flying down the steps, he felt his heart pull. “You’re home!” You shouted smiling, leaping up.

He threw his duffel bag on the floor in the doorway just in time to catch you. He spun you around in the air, smiling under his half wooden-plated mask. He blushes as your kisses littered his half-shown face.

“I missed you!” You yelled, giggling as he lowered you back to the floor. He rests his forehead against yours and held your hips just memorize you once more. “I really missed you, Vincent.” You lift your hands and hold his face. “You were gone forever.”

He nods in agreement. He didn’t want to sign anything, not just yet. Vincent didn’t want this moment to be over. Having you back made his unwritten melodies complete and he could hear notes play as he takes you in. You are his muse for most songs after all.

He took your hand and guided it to his mask, gesturing to you to take it off. Your feather-like hands took off his mask slowly and he closed his eyes, shivering at the cool air. His mask hung in your hand, and you smiled when you saw his face. He’s just as beautiful as the day he left you. Your free hand held his scarred cheek, his head leaning into your touch, while your eyes tracing every bit of him. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your hand, then ending with your lips. He pulled away before holding you close to deepen his kiss.

He has time to make up. Seven whole months without your touch, your embrace… he is a sinner. Your sinner. His deity. He has to find forgiveness.

With ease, he lifts you up, carries you with his arms under your legs, and heads for the bedroom down the hall.

~~~~~~

As you slept on his chest, Vincent held up his song book, writing silently, as a watched eye on you. Your shoulders were bruised with his love and affection like his. He only wanted to be closer to you and more. What praise can he give but love for you?

A song will do.

A song just for you so others can sing praises of you, be followers of you, but none will ever be as faithful and loyal as him.

He hummed the chorus one more time before closing his book just in time for you to wake up. He sat his book aside and laid flat on his back. You nuzzled into his neck and left a small kiss over his adam’s apple. A relaxed sigh escaped his throat as he threw his head to the side.

“Did you miss me?”

He nods, tracing his answer in your skin, ‘Yes.’

“Bed was too cold while you were gone,” you noted, his thumb gently making circles in your back. “But sleeping in your shirt’s comforted me.” You drew a heart in the center of his chest. “I took care of the plants, too. The cactus gave birth so there’s baby cactuses. Guess that makes us grandparents or something.”

He smirks and chuckles.

Silence was warm and comfortable between you two. The soft thumping of his heartbeat made house feel like home again. “…I really missed you,” you murmured. You felt Vincent’s lips in your hair as he pulled you closer to him. In a way, that was him showing that he’s here and you’re safe. “For a while, I went crazy thinking you weren’t coming home. I saw the fire at that wax museum you and your brothers were playing, the wax falling Lester’s back, and they got a video of your mask melting…” your voice trailed as he stiffened at the memory.

If the silence is too loud, he can still hear his baby brother’s voice screaming in pain and agony. Bo and he made dirt out of the inferno, but Lester was trapped, scared and alone. He remember he took off his mask before running back on Bo’s heels; his mask felt too heavy to wear that night. He still sees how bright the orange and yellow flames were as Bo moved wood and metal off his back. He ended up burning some spots on his hands but he doesn’t care. He was just as desperate as Vincent to get their brother out. Each twin took an arm and raced out with him before the museum’s gas could explode. Bo and he cradled their brother then paramedics rushed to his side and took him to the hospital.

He remembered how the world of heavy rock and metal was quiet for the night.

That’s why Bo canceled two weeks of interviews that night, 16 days ago, so they can recover from everything.

He gripped your body tighter and held you closer. You figured he must’ve been scared because he didn’t give you room to wiggle or move. Your hands held his arms and closed your eyes. “I’m happy you’re okay and safe. I’m happy and thankful.”

Vincent made a soft noise, agreeing with you.

“Just want to stay like this and cuddle,” you said, not asking. Luckily he nods in agreement, lifting the blanket up higher over your shoulders.

He didn’t want anything else but this. Vincent wanted you in his arms, in his heart, engraved into his mind. He’ll finish the song and draw a picture of you to put up in the bus. For now, he’ll focus on you and the reality of this feeling.

The sunset over the town like a dream.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Crying at Death’s Door: Bo Sinclair x afab!reader

18+

Warnings: allusions to an abusive Bo, asking about dying, bondage,crying, Bo calls reader a dog (yes a dog and not a bitch), afab reader, no pronouns used.

A/N: I literally watched like 6 minutes before this scene and then the scene itself and I’ve watched this scene so many fucking times it’s not even funny. This is only lightly based on the scene. Movie is Dead Ringers it’s free on Tubi and I guess the shows coming out April 21st too (this time lesbians). Also me using “kneels properly” if your Catholic you know

Masterlist

You whine softly and wiggle your arms. They’re spread and tied across the metal footboard. You don’t know how long you’ve been like this. All you know is that prior to this you were in the basement under the gas station, then you’d been moved to a small doctors office in the house, and lastly to what you assume is Bo’s bedroom.

You didn’t bother to try to escape any of your situations, you’d given up on that a week into your kidnapping, there wasn’t a point when you had no contact with any of your family and your friends were all dead, you just had to wait for your death.

You assumed it would be soon, Bo used your body already and took so many pictures of you, hanging them in that dingy room. You’d seen all of the girls and recognized some when you had went into the wax museum that day. You know your friends are in there and god you’d do anything to be with them, especially with this growing anxiety of not knowing when Bo would pull the plug on your life.

The front door opens and you perk up, recognizing Bo’s footsteps immediately. Your arms tingle as you wiggle a bit more wanting to run to the man. The foot steps fade and you assume he’s going to the basement, which was Vincent’s work area. You put two and two together that that’s where the floor door had led to when you decided to look around when you were strapped to the medical bed in their father’s office.

Minutes later Bo is back on the main floor, you hear the sink go off, and the slam of the microwave. It hums then beeps a few minutes later.

Bo’s footsteps start up again and this time get louder and louder as he ascends the stairs.

The bedroom door opens and Bo can be seen on the other side holding water and a microwaveable pasta. You look tiredly up at him.

“You been good baby?” He asks, walking into the room and sitting in between your spread legs. You nod at his question, thinking you have been.

“Nice to know you like tellin’ the truth to me now. Asked Vincent if you’d been cryin’ or tryin’ to escape, said he couldn’t hear a thing from you. You’re so good. Such a good baby.” Bo coos and brushed his thumb across your face. You smile lazily and lean into his touch. “Made you a little snack.”

Snack? This has been lunch and dinner for months for you. Those stupid microwaveable meals, now he’s saying they’re a snack?

“Dinner ain’t until late.”

Bo takes the water and tilts it into your mouth, you drink until half of it is gone, not wasting a single drop and for once Bo isn’t trying to make you fuck up.

He takes the pasta and stabs some noodles with the fork, bringing it to your mouth you bite the noodles off of it. A snack. A little treat before dinner. What the hell was dinner gonna be then?

“Doin’ so good.”

Your heart flutters at his praise. God it’s done that since you first met him. Even when he had you in the basement he could fuck you up and his sweet talking would change your mind completely about him. Bo Sinclair had you wrapped around his finger since you two laid eyes on each other.

You finish the meal and Bo let’s you drink the rest of the water. He gets up and leaves only to be back a minute later with a refilled water he sets on one side of the bed.

“H-“ You let out a small noise when Bo walks in. He raises a brow and starts getting undressed, most likely to get into comfortable clothes.

“You can talk, what is it?”

“Hhow was your day?” Your voice cracks between speaking and a whisper.

“Was alright.”

You stare at him in only his boxers. You’d never seen him with little clothes on, he always had his shirt and pants on even if it was just a little when he fucked you. He finally takes his boxers off and walks over, kneeling and scooting forward setting you onto his lap. He touches your tied arms and smiles. Then Bo looks into your eyes and leans in kissing your lips softly, feeling up and down your thighs. You wiggle wanting to touch him. You never got used to being tied up, always begging to touch him, just for a second with your hands. Just to hold his face.

Bo moved his lips down your jaw and kisses your clothed shoulder, he unbuttons one then two buttons on the shirt and kisses your chest.

“Just waitin’ for me ta come back? Makin’ sure you were so good when I was gone. Such a good dog.”

You moan at the pet name and shift in his lap trying to get Bo’s cock to touch your clit. Bo kisses your lips again and moves his hand in between your legs. You don’t wear underwear, haven’t worn any since he tore them off in the basement. He has easier access to your cunt that way. He told you himself.

His middle and ring finger slide between your folds, only just brushing your clit, then dipping into your pussy.

Your mouth opens, you cry out and Bo smirks touching at your g-spot over and over again. He kisses your cheeks and bites your ear lobe.

“Been so good to me baby. You don’t fight me or nothin’ ain’t fought me since you got into that chair. You want me that much huh?”

Bo’s hand gets rougher and he puts more pressure into you.

“Yeah! Yeah Bo I-ah I- do!” Your back arches against the metal frame, it hurts but Bo’s fingers feel too good for you to care.

“I like hearin’ those noises, keep goin’.” Bo sucks on your neck. You whine, rolling your eyes up. You feel a tightness in your core.

“Please, Bo I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Please keep going!”

He quickens his pace and you squirm, squirting into Bo’s hand. You cry out vision turning white, your body trembles as he rides you though your high.

“Messy ass dog.” Bo says, before dropping you on his lap and licking the palm of his hand to his fingers, then sucking on them. You watch in a haze, smiling lazily, too out of it to feel flustered.

“You like cumming on my fingers?”

You nod frantically.

“What about my cock?” Bo teases, you nod again. “Say it then.”

Embarrassment unravels, your mouth opens, closes then opens again.

“Go on. Been so good, say it or you won’t get it.”

“I-I like cumming on your cock Bo.”

You can’t even cover your face to try and hide. Doesn’t matter anyways cause when you try and turn your head away away Bo grabs your face and tuts at you. “Say it again, bein’ truthful aren’t we? You’d admit it to me twice wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..” Your hips wiggle , trying to adjust yourself on Bo’s lap. You were getting worked up again.

“Then say it, no stuttering either.”

“I like cumming on your cock Bo. I like when you cum in me too.” Your eyes read desperate. He hums in approval and kisses your forehead.

“Good dog.”

Bo kneels properly, your ass slowly slides off of him but he holds you up, he holds his cock with his other hand and slowly slides into you, stretching you out. You moan into his shoulder.

“So tight for me.” Bo mumbles. He pulls out and pushes back in a few times, just sitting there for a some seconds each to get used to the stretch. Then he fucks into you somewhere between a slow and fast pace. Kissing you roughly. The bed creaks, especially the bars that you’re tied to, as you bang into them. Bo wraps his arm around your waist, and uses his other hand to hold onto the footboard.

You wanna grab Bo and hold him so badly. You let out soft cries, but hope Bo just mistakes them for you moaning. He seems to as his pace never stops.

“You like being like this? Always tied up for me? Like me being in control?” Bo grunts, you nod and kiss his shoulder and you his neck, stopping at his jaw.

“Yes, yes I do! I love being ready to be used. I love when you take control of my body and I don’t have to think.” You babble, Bo’s hold on you tightens.

“Always know what to say. You’re so good at not thinking. You’re a good dog.” Bo’s hand goes to move the hair from your face and kiss all over it. You mewl, your cunt tightening around his cock.

His thumb hooks into your mouth, it opens without hesitation and he spits in it. You pant and wait for him to close your mouth but he spits again. Then closes it. You wait again as he pounds into you. “Swallow.” And you do. You roll your hips into him and whine, your pussy pulsates.

“Gonna cum? Tell me.”

Your back arches. More loud loans come from your chest.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum on your cock!” Your mouth hangs open, you let the moans escape you as Bo thrusts faster into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock.”

He thrusts a couple of more times and again, your eyes roll back and vision flashes white. You let out a loud squeal, your body shaking. He fucks you through your orgasm.

“Want me to cum in you?” Bo asks, you nod lazily. He keeps at his pace, your body shakes at the overstimulation, he cums in your cunt, groaning into your shoulder.

Bo kisses your cheek and unties both of your arms. He kisses your wrists softly, the marks still not as bad as his. Your arms are sore but regardless you wrap them around Bo. You kiss and hold his face, running your hands through his hair for the first time. You almost sob, in fact you do. How many more times would you get to touch him with your hands before he killed you?

Bo doesn’t say a thing as you cry, only softly shushing you. He hates crying, shit stresses him out and almost, almost pisses him off. He thinks it’s about sex. “You did so good for me.”

You nod into him and he shushes you more.

You finally calm down and lean against the footboard. “So how much longer do I have?” You ask, your eyes puffy and red.

Your lip trembled but you try and keep your composure, regardless of the anxiety swimming laps in your stomach.

“What do ya mean?” Bo’s brows furrow.

You reword your statement. “When are you going to kill me?” You look into his beautiful blue eyes. Something of anger shows in them before disappearing. Instead it returns in his voice.

“You tryin’ to leave me or somethin’?” Bo sounds accusatory. You ignore it.

“No, I just notice a pattern. You tie all of your victims in that chair, you take pictures of them as a trophy and kill them. I don’t wanna go anywhere but if I am going somewhere I’d like to at least know when.”

Bo sneers. “Ya ain’t gettin’ that same treatment. You told me you’ve been good and proven that to me. You ain’t goin’ no where. You’re mine.”

You suck in some air and smile. “Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

Bo kisses your nose and wraps his arms under your ass before standing and setting you onto his soft bed. “I got you some clothes and I’m makin’ dinner for us later.” Bo explains. He slides in next to you and and shuffle so you’re under the blanket and cuddled into Bo’s side. “I don’t want you ever thinkin’ I’m gonna kill you. I would’ve done it already if I wanted you gone.”

You nod into his chest and close your eyes drifting into a small nap.

[halloweenbitch2764]

Broken Home | Bo Sinclair x Reader

TW: Abuse

A/N: This is the reboot of my original series titled the same. This one is going to be better, I think, so thank you for reading!

Chapter One

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I was terrified, angry, and overall hurt. I questioned why it happened to me but prayed it was a gift in disguise. Being optimistic wasn't easy, but it would be the only way I would get through this alive.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove the deserted road, occasionally glancing at my map to try to navigate where I needed to go. My stuff was thrown haphazardly in the backseat, and my immediate needs were in the passenger seat. Things like my map, my purse, and so on.

I had a plan. I was heading to my hometown of Ambrose. Silent prayers filled my head as I hoped who I wanted to see still lived there. I hadn't seen him or his family since I was a little girl.

Bo. Bo Sinclair. To others, he was a menace, but to me, he was a protector. A memory came flooding back as I thought back to him.

I was young, probably about five or six, and I was being picked on while playing alone outside. I was shy when I was young and usually kept to myself. For some reason, a boy around my age had decided to pick on me. My mom swore it was because he simply had a crush on me, but I didn't buy it. Whatever the reason, he started throwing dirt and small rocks at me. I had tried getting away, but he cornered me. I fell on my butt and scrambled back.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!?" A voice sounded behind him. Clearly, someone that was our age. The boy whipped around and dropped the rocks he had in his hand. "S-Sorry!" Was all the boy squeaked out before running away. I looked to see who it was and saw it was Bo Sinclair.

Bo was known to be a bully in his own right. He had a temper and was extremely protective of his siblings. He wasn't afraid of a fight. "And don't bother her again!" He yelled as the boy ran off. He offered me a hand, and I took it, standing up and brushing the dirt off my clothes.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "Yeah, I-I'm okay. Thank you." I replied and smiled shyly. He nodded and smiled brightly. "What's your name?" He pried. "Y/N L/N. Who are you?" I already knew, but it was only polite to ask in return. "Bo Sinclair." He said and grinned. "Oh, your mom owns the Wax Museum, right? And your dad's a doctor?" He nodded.

That moment was the catalyst of a fantastic friendship. He was protective of me, and I was never picked on in a mean way again. He, of course, picked on me, but it was always in a playful manner, so I didn't mind. I became sort of friends with Vincent and knew of Lester (he was too little to really be friends with). Vincent tended to be with his mom, helping her with the Museum.

Bo and I grew older together. He even became my childhood crush. But one day, the Sugar Mill went out of business. My parents were out of work, and that meant we had to move. I hated the idea. I wanted to stay with Bo. I begged my parents to let me stay, but I didn't have a choice.

When the day came for me to leave, I cried. I didn't want to leave Bo, leave the only town I'd ever known. I grabbed one of my stuffed animals and gave it to Bo. He said he'd keep it forever, and we hugged one last time before I left. I cried on and off the whole ride to the new town.

A smile came to me as I remembered Bo being so protective of me. It was a nice memory in a moment of such anguish. Would Bo even remember me? Would he even still live in Ambrose? Thoughts swirled in my mind as I drove.

Reality set back in fairly quickly, reminding me I was not coming back on good terms. I was coming because I needed an escape and fast. My ex was after me. I knew that if he found me, I was likely dead. My foot pressed on the gas a bit harder.

I checked my map one more time before seeing the sign I remembered from all those years ago. "Trudy's House of Wax". I smiled despite the tears. I knew I was almost to Ambrose.

After a little more driving, I arrived in the town. I parked in front of the gas station and got out. I headed into the gas station. "Hello?" I called out but got no response. I stood still for a minute before hearing some muffled music. I stepped out of the gas station and followed the music to the church.

I took a breath and slowly pushed the door open. The pews were filled, and a man knelt in front of a casket. A preacher stood off to the side behind the casket. My eyes widened, and I quickly closed the door, not wanting to interrupt.

I groaned softly into my hands and brushed the hair from in front of my face. I was about to walk away when the door opened. I looked up to see a man. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one before looking at me.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt. I'm actually looking for someone. Can you help?" The man nodded and took a drag. "His name is Bo Sinclair. I'm Y/N L/N, I know it's a long shot to even think he's still here, but -" His eyes widened. "Y/N...?"

[sevikagf]

not tagging anyone bc this is just for fun but pls pick!!

[its-monster-mash]

Sinclair Brothers Headcanons - Angst

I’m fresh off of a House of Wax rewatch and I come bearing headcanons

Bo

• Self-Appointed Eldest Brother

• Suffers migraines as a result of the separation surgery, but no one ever considered the side effects Bo may have faced since he wasn’t the twin who was left visibly scarred. This is why he had the meltdowns he did as a kid.

• Taught by his mother that the migraines are a punishment from God for being an awful child.

• Since he grew up being told how awful he was, he has a skewed moral compass because he feels like if he’s Bad no matter what he does he may as well do whatever he wants. In a strange way, he feels good when he does bad things because he feels like he’s doing what’s always been expected of him.

• Fights fights fights. His dad being a “Disgraced Doctor” and his mom going insane(and also having a strange job before that) kids made fun of his family a lot. This, of course, extended to Vincent.

• Beat other kids bloody for picking on Vincent—when he finally got caught, it was the first time he was ever treated like he did something GOOD by his parents; so he learned that being violent was A Good Thing™️ as long as it was to protect the family.

• Didn’t like Vincent going anywhere without him because how could he protect him if he wasn’t there?

• Especially after their parents died and the town started falling apart, Bo felt like it was HIS job to protect his brothers.

• Hurt that Lester doesn’t want to live with them full time; he feels like it’s something personal against him.

• He doesn’t mention Lester when he gives his speeches about ‘The Sinclair Family’ not because he’s got anything against him, but because deep down he knows that someday they’re going to get caught. He knows there’ll be no getting out of it for him and Vincent, but he hopes that the less he implicates Lester the more likely his baby brother is to be spared The Chair.

• Always used to feel like it would be any day that they’d get caught, and he used to want it. Years ago he used to feel like getting caught and having Ambrose make Headlines would be the culmination of their mother’s dream. Now, he’s just tired of it all—it’s a chore—it’s Vincent’s whole life’s work. Bo no longer wants to be caught, he just wants to hold on to what he’s got left.

• Bo is Autistic, but he’s had to do so much masking because nobody cared about his needs. He’s got a lot of rituals he does every day, involving counting all the Wax Sculptures in town, and making sure all the air conditioning is running several times a day for fear that the wax will melt. He thinks he doesn’t have a talent like Vincent does, but he’s actually an incredibly skilled mechanic who can fix just about anything with the barest of supplies. He just never got any praise for it, so it felt like it didn’t count.

• He attends his mother’s Funeral Service every Sunday.

• So much religious trauma. Fervently believes that God is real and he hates him personally for some crime of his birth. This man believes everything his mother ever said. Christian in the “I will fistfight God in the Parking Lot” sense, the “When I die I hope I get the chance to scream at God for being a shitty Father before he sends me to Hell” sense.

• “Why would you make me this way?” Religious Trauma.

Vincent

• “A Pleasure to Have in Class”

• He actually CAN talk, he just doesn’t prefer to because he’s self-conscious about the way he sounds due to his deformity, and also as a result of the childhood trauma of watching Bo be abused—it was safer to be the Quiet Son.

• He’s Autistic, but flew under the radar because most people assume he’s non-verbal due to his deformity. He’s EXTREMELY specific about the kind of material he puts on his body, and he actually prefers the way his clothes feel if they’ve got a film of wax on them.

• Wax is as much a special interest for him as it is a lifeline. His art made his mother “love” him, so he poured his all into it. She made him feel like that was all there was to life for him—now it’s just about all he knows.

• He’s EXTREMELY pretentious about his art and his process—it has to be absolutely PERFECT or he hates it. If he’s interrupted during a bought of creative mania he will sulk for a week. If he’s not good at a new skill IMMEDIATELY he hates it—which is why he cannot cook.

• Very much a “You Wouldn’t Understand” artist. “Nobody gets me.”

• The reason he doesn’t put as much care into HIS mask as he does his sculptures, is because his body heat coupled with the heat from his workshop makes the wax too malleable to hold the fine details well, so he’d just rather not bother. He made a detailed mask based on Bo’s face exactly ONCE, and it pissed him off so badly when he kept losing detail that he destroyed it himself just to have a little peace.

• The detailed mask actually hurt his feelings more than seeing his bare face, because when he first made it it looked “Like he should have”, but it was never perfect because of the way his body heat would soften it.

• Absolutely furious whenever anything happens to his art—doesn’t check as often as Bo does because he once saw a rat crawl out of a hole it chewed in the eye of one of the sculptures, and the resultant smell of the open rot made him vomit on the spot.

• Enjoys killing more than Bo does. He doesn’t really care about hurting people—that part isn’t a thrill for him, but he does prefer strangers to be dead. He’s so used to working with dead bodies that it’s much more peaceful for him if people who AREN’T family just die. Sculpting on a living body is a special Hell reserved for “tourists” who vandalize his art.

• He is well aware of how over-protective Bo is of him. Sometimes it annoys him, but he also knows it’s one of the few ways Bo knows how to show that he cares. Since Bo has always protected him, and survived everything their parents did to him, Vincent sort of sees Bo as indestructible, untouchable, so it’s alarming to see him injured.

• Vincent is genuinely afraid of what would happen if Bo weren’t around—he doesn’t know how to take care of any of the myriad of technical things Bo does, and Vincent knows that without the air conditioning, every creation he’s ever made will melt in the Louisiana heat.

• Vincent is an atheist. He tolerates Bo’s God Talk because he’s aware that God was a weapon used against Bo as a child for being the “Bad Son”. He knows Bo is trying to be comforting when he quotes their mother, so he doesn’t throw it in his face. Can’t believe in a God who would allow them to do the things they do to people. “The only God in Ambrose is Me”.

Lester

• The Forgotten Youngest Child.

• Being the brother who isn’t a twin—having no deformity and lacking Bo’s behavioral issues, Lester was forgotten and neglected a lot as a child—to the point where he’d just go wander off into the woods alone so at least he wouldn’t have to watch his parents ignore him. With the added benefit of not having to hear Bo’s outbursts.

• Really good at building traps, and ate a lot of squirrels when he was growing up, because Trudy and Vincent would sometimes forget to feed him. Really kind of raised himself.

• Came to terms with the abuse and neglect he and his brothers suffered much more fully after their parents passed—he never really felt very attached to his parents, so he didn’t feel the need to carry out Trudy’s dream.

• The most Aware™️ that the killing his family does is wrong, hence his speech about how easy it is to “Get Used To” all kinds of things. It’s just the life Trudy raised them into. He thinks it’s sad that his brothers are still perpetuating her goals, but what can ya do? They’re his brothers.

• He doesn’t spend a lot of time in the Sinclair home—preferring his little place in the woods—because there’s a lot of bad memories in that house and he doesn’t believe in letting himself fester in the past.

• Still visits every couple of weeks when he does his laundry—usually Bo gets takeout when he knows Lester’s coming up so they can have a family meal. Lester actually prefers his own hunted/foraged cooking, but he enjoys getting to actually have some family time with his brothers, so he chokes down what’s usually fast food, because he knows Bo’s trying.

• He doesn’t actually participate in the killings, but he is the one that rigged the animatronics in Ambrose—he’s actually a hell of an engineer, though he’s never been to school for it.

• The animatronic puppies are his favorite, and he modeled them after Jonesy.

• He’s actually pretty well adjusted, all things considered. He’s just happily living his life in the woods—he does wish things were different for his brothers, but he knows they’re in too deep now, so he just looks out for them as best he can.

• He guts the cellphones of his brothers’ victims both to disable any tracking functions and to use the parts for his animatronics.

[venus-haze]

I’m Battie (she/her), in my 20s, and I write fanfic🦇 I’ll expand this masterlist as I post more, but since I write explicit content, please do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18. Do not interact if you post ED/thinspo content.

Many of my fics have dark themes, and I include detailed warnings for each one. Please read the warnings carefully before deciding whether you want to engage with the fic. If you feel there is a warning I should have included for a fic, please let me know and I’ll add it. I do not condone the behavior depicted in the yandere/dark fics in real life. These are works of fiction.

You can find most of these fics on my AO3 also.

SLASHER MASTERLIST

Baby Firefly (House of 1000 Corpses)

Watch It Bring You To Your Knees (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

Howl (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Adam Raised a Cain (female reader, dubcon, smut)

Creep (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Who's Sorry Now (female reader, dark themes, smut)

It's a Nice Day To Start Again (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Brother's Keeper (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Night Shift (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Damned If You Do (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Father/Doctor Charlie Mayhew (Grotesquerie)

Reach Out, Touch Faith (female reader, Kinktober prompt fill - thigh riding)

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Driller Killer (Slumber Party Massacre 2)

Mr. February (female reader, dubcon, smut)

Rip This Place Apart (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Mickey Altieri (Scream 2)

Rip 'Em To Shreds (gender neutral reader, dark themes)

Bad Obsession (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, yandere elements, smut)

Girls on Film (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Working for the Knife (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Headcanons

Mickey being told “No” when he’s in the mood (gender neutral reader, dubcon)

Mickey x Ghostface!S/O!Reader (gender neutral reader, dark themes)

Otis Driftwood (House of 1000 Corpses)

Pretty Tied Up (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Father Paul Hill (Midnight Mass)

Sinnerman (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Power in the Blood (female nun!reader, dark themes, smut)

Foxy Coltrane (3 From Hell)

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Severen (Near Dark)

Rebel Yell (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Open All Night (female reader, dark themes, smut)

Eat Your Heart Out (woman reader, dark themes)

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Celebrity Skin (female reader, noncon, dark themes, smut)

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax)

Enjoy the Silence (female reader, dubcon, dark themes, smut)

Bad Ritual (woman reader, dark themes)

[slashersdaddy]

Master list + Rules

This is an 18+ account. MDNI. For your own and others sanity and safety. I will not tolerate- Transphobia, homophobia, hate, racism, sexism, etc.. Be mindful and respectful. I write for: Slashers. I am willing to write for any slasher as long as they are 18+. DBD, Once more 18+. Creepypastas, Once more 18+. While i will write for all of these Fandoms, I DO expect to add more, and WILL say no if a request makes me uncomfortable. I will NOT write: Minors, Incest, SA, or other topics similar.

GENERAL SLASHERS:

HOUSE OF WAX:

Vincent Sinclair x GN! Reader "I'm Home"

Vincent Sinclair x Artistic Reader

Bo and Vincent as Boyfriends HC's HALLOWEEN: Michael Myers NSFW Headcannons SCREAM:

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT:

Types Of BF- Charles Lee Ray, Trickster, Doctor Charles Lee Ray: Charles Lee Ray!Yandere HC's

CREEPYPASTAS

Ticci Toby: Toby x Transmasc reader 'Infinity' Masky: Masky X GN!Reader I Love You

[skylarsblue]

✦Who I Write For✦

Rules

(This will be added too over time)

SLASHERS

⭑Bo Sinclair ⭑Vincent Sinclair ⭑Lester Sinclair ⭑Michael Myers (OG, 2007, & Gramps) ⭑Thomas Hewitt ⭑Bubba Sawyer ⭑Jason Voorhees ⭑Ghostface (Billy & Stu) ⭑Tiffany Valentine ⭑Brahms Heelshire ⭑Billy Lenz ⭑Carrie White ⭑Baby Driftwood ⭑Otis Driftwood ⭑Pyramid Head ⭑Herbert West (if a male/masc reader) -Bonus- ⭑Carly & Nick; House of Wax ⭑Sydney; Scream

Dead By Daylight

♢Evan MacMillan - The Trapper ♢Anna - The Huntress ♢Max Thompson Jr. - The Hillbilly ♢Sally Smithson - The Nurse ♢Herman Carter - The Doctor ♢Ji Woon Hak - The Trickster ♢Danny Johnson - The Ghostface ♢Philip Ojomo - The Wraith ♢Amanda Young - The Pig ♢Rin Yamaoka - The Spirit (only SFW) ♢Kazan Yamaoka - The Oni ♢Frank Morrison - The Legion ♢Susie Lavoie - The Legion (only SFW) ♢Julie Kostenko - The Legion ♢Joey - The Legion ♢Adiris - The Plague ♢Caleb Quinn - The Deathslinger ♢Carmina Mora - The Artist ♢Sadako Yamamura - The Onryo (only SFW) ♢Tarhos Kovacs - The Knight ♢Adriana Imai - The Skullmerchant ♢Nemesis - The Nemesis -Bonus- ♢Jill Valentine ♢Leon Kennedy ♢Cheryl Mason ♢Carlos Oliveria ♢Claudette Morel ♢Bill Overbeck ♢Vittorio Toscano

Our Life; Beginnings & Always

❧Cove Holden ❧Derek Suarez ❧Baxter Ward ❧Elizabeth Last (x readers for non-sibling characters) ❧Kyra Preece ❧Tamarack Baumann ❧Qui "Autumn" Lin

Beetlejuice

⚂Lawrence Beetlegeuse Shoggoth ⚂Lydia Deetz (only SFW) ⚂Adam Maitland ⚂Barbara Maitland ⚂Ms.Argentina

Call of Duty; Modern Warfare

✚Simon "Ghost" Riley ✚Johnny "Soap" MacTavish ✚John Price ✚Kyle "Gaz" Garrick ✚Alejandro Vargas ✚Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra ✚Valeria Garza ✚Alex Keller ✚Farah Karim ✚Nikolai ✚Konig ✚Horangi

Random

❦Eddie Brock & Venom (2015) ❦Frankenstein's Monster - Mary SHelly ❦Classic Monsters; Dracula, Werewolves, etc. ❦Krampus(yes you read me) ❦Y/N from Stuck on A Childhood Crush/Friend & Killer (aka Cordelia)

Yes that's write. You can have your Y/N x Reader fics now.

[soupbabe]

🔪 Slasher Masterlist Part 2 🔪

[guess who hit the limit for links! this is a continuation of my slasher masterlist. below are the characters I can write for and you can request for listed in alphabetical order]

Last Updated: 9/4/2023

~~

Baby Firefly (House of 1000 Corpses)

-

Billy Lenz (Black Christmas)

- Billy w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

Billy Loomis (Scream)

- Comforting Billy During a Breakdown

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

- Arts and Crafts (fic, Dad! Bo)

- Bo with a Bookworm! S/o

- Bo with an Animal Lover! S/o

- Bo with a Naturalist! S/o

- Comforting Bo During a Breakdown

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

- Bath Time (fic, Bigender! Reader)

Bubba Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

-

Carrie White (Carrie)

- Carrie Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Chop Top Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2)

- Chop Top with a Plus Size! Transman

Daniel Robitaille (Candyman)

- Candyman comforting a Sensitive S/o

Harry Warden (My Bloody Valentine 1981)

-

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

-

Kurt Kunkle (Spree)

-

Martin Mathias (Martin 1977)

- Plus Size! Reader Tries on Clothes with Martin

- Martin w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Martin with a Bookworm! S/o

- Martin Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Michael Myers (Halloween 1978)

- Michael with a Flirty! Killer! Reader

- Comforting Michael Through a Breakdown

RZ! Michael Myers (Rob Zombie's Halloween)

- Michael w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Michael with a Bookworm! S/o

- Michael Comforting a Sensitive S/o

Nubbins Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

- Nubbins with a Plus Size! Transman

- Playing with Nubbins's hair

- Get a Room (fic, Male! Reader)

Otis Driftwood (House of 1000 Corpses)

- Coming Out to Otis

- Playing with Otis's hair

- Otis with a Plus Size! S/o

- Otis with an Insecure! Non-binary! S/o

Stu Macher (Scream)

- How Stu Takes Care of Slasher! Reader

- Treats (fic)

Thomas Hewitt (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003/2006)

- Playing with Thomas's Hair

- Hewitt Family Reacting to Tommy's Doctor! Bf

Tiffany Valentine (Bride of Chucky)

-

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax)

- Vincent w a Reader Who Has Broad Music Tastes

- Vincent with a Bookworm! S/o

- Vincent with an Animal Lover! S/o

- Playing with Vincent's Hair

- Vincent with a Naturalist! S/o

- Vincent with a Gothic! Sculpter! Reader

~~~

Poly! Ghostface (Billy Loomis and Stu Macher)

-

[ajokeformur-ray]

Would you be open to sharing a list of all your F/Os 💕

Sure! The way I agonised over how to write this all day.😭

Okay so my main F/Os are (in NO particular order):

Arthur Fleck (Joker 2019; romantic)

Michael Langdon (AHS Apocalypse; romantic)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things; romantic) & his dad Uncle Wayne & Jim Hopper are parental F/Os.

(My 3 boys, all of whom deserved better & I wanna wrap up in a blanket and love on them so hard they forget how cruelly others treated them🥺comversely, I want Uncle Wayne & Hopper to be looking after me😭)

Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde and Mary Reilly (my parental F/Os)

Grim Reapers 444, 007 and 416 (K-Drama Black; first and last numbers are platonic and middle number is romantic)

There's also my casual F/Os (still F/Os but they're not constant like the above list, I just dip into them when I want them)

Liz Taylor & Tristan Duffy (poly because these two are practically married & I don't wanna separate them. Of the two, I lean to Liz more often because she's my wife) - AHS Hotel

L Lawliet (Death Note)

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)

Ash Williams (Evil Dead)

Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair (I ship myself romantically with the three Sinclair brothers from House of Wax 2005. They share me lmfao).

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler - live action 2014).

Jerry Dandridge (Fright Night 1985)

J (TDK Ledger Joker)

Honourable mentions for characters who are not F/Os but are very important comfort characters and I carry them with me always as very wise ancient beings who wouldn't want anything to do with me as a mere human but here we are;

Doctors 9 - 12 (Doctor Who)

Jareth (Labyrinth)

Dream of the Endless (Sandman 2022)