#lester lowe x reader

[mostlyghostlyy]

Everett McGill is so damn handsome 🥺🔥

So real. I saw him first in People Under The Stairs and loved him in it! The movie was mid though.

I think I could die for his Rev Lester Lowe character, though. Like yesss bbygirl, get more disheveled throughout the lunar cycle 💞

[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.

[msookyspooky]

Goin' Hunting

You've been running from Bo all around Ambrose for the last hour...And he finally catches you in the woods.

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader • CNC • Dubcon • S/M • Master/Submissive • Primal Play • Outdoor Sex • Rough Penetration VP • Fingering • Humiliation • Domination • Degredation • Praise Kink • Later; Established Relationship and Brat Dynamic from Reader

No Word Count. Not proofread.

Your heart pounded as you sprinted to the woods. God damn it, you were so close! So fucking close to escaping.

Gasping for air, legs aching, knees weak and stumbling as you kept running...You heard a long...Low... Whistle...Somewhere behind you in the woods.

You froze, plastering yourself up against a tree. Sweat was dripping down your face and into your eyes as you blinked it away. It was pitch black outside except for a Quarter Moon. Bryer bushes scrapped exposed skin except for your jeans and flannel. It was October in Ambrose...Still warm for Louisiana but there was a damp heaviness in the air that made a chill ghost over your skin.

"C'mon out, darlin'....Ya ain't gettin' away. Ya know this...YER JUS' MAKIN' IT HARDER ON YERSELF!" He yelled out with both amusement and frustration lacing his thick Southern Accent. He was a predator. Through and through. He looked at you not like a human but like some scared little rabbit running from him.

You knew what he'd do if he caught you.

You covered your mouth, eyes wide to try and not say anything. Trying not to whimper as your eyes darted to the side.

He was in blue coveralls and that hat that read sweetbird 69. His tall broad shouldered frame crept past your tree and you felt your heart drop out. Trembling with anxiety as he looked around and looked the other way before huffing to himself and walking away from back where he came.

You felt your shoulders untense as you finally took a tiny, quiet breath you were holding. Slowly releasing your mouth and waiting a few moments. You snuck a peek seeing he wasn't there. He must have went back to the road or to Ambrose to hunt for you.

You took the risk to make a run for it. Lester! If you could get to the road, if he saw you, he could get you out of here and you could win this.

You shoved off the tree taking off before releasing a scream when you got tackled to the ground.

"GOTCHYA!"

You struggled and he slammed you down with a grin. "Shh, shhhh." He told you as you fought him. Trying to crawl away from under him with fistfuls of leaves and soil in your fingers as he just grabbed you by your thighs and dragged you back to him.

"I don't think so, honey." He growled out and with a slight grunt flipped you onto your back where you had even less leverage.

"Get the fuck off me!" You yelled, teeth gritted as you tried shoving him off. "Motherfucker, get off!!"

He just chuckled at your attempts to shove his big self. He was well over 6'1, probably close to or was 180 lbs of muscle mostly and had an aggression in him that just spurred him on.

He grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks. "Shhh...Shh, it's okay. It's over now. Ya aint gotta fight no more."

You kept struggling, grunts and cries escaping you as you screamed.

"Go ahead! Scream all ya want, sweetheart. Yer gonna be doin' plenty of it tonight...Ain't nobody around to hear ya." He mused with a sadistic smirk.

You tried to use your hand to shove him off by his face and he just grabbed both your wrist and jerked them down. Pinning them to your sides. Your heart hammered, your body trembled, a tingling went through your whole body at realizing just how strong he was. No matter your strength, he was stronger and had the upperhand...He could do whatever he wanted and you were helpless.

He smiled down at you. A bit of sweat curling his hair near his forehead as he caught his breath a bit from chasing you. "Yer a fun one, ain't ya?" He shoved you down more as you flinched with wide eyes. "Gave me quite a workout chasin' yer fine ass all over town. But I won. And now? I think I deserve a prize for winnin'."

He came foreward and tried to kiss you and you tried to bite him. He just laughed heartily in amusement at you. "Biting are we? I didn't take you for a feral dog...More like a sweet lil toy I get to use...Is that what you are? My toy I get to use?"

"Fuck you!"

"Don't you worry bout that. Imma do plenty of it out here." He retorted with a dark chuckle.

"You'll never get away with this! You don't have to do this, I won't tell, please!" You tried to reason as you felt him switch your wrist so he had you by one hand, pinned over your head. The other large hand of his roamed with that black and silver ring reflecting off the moon every so often. You could see his veins in his hand as he jerked at your belt and you whimpered and shook your head.

"Hey." He sternly told you before his voice became sweet and mocking once more. "You're gonna be a good lil thing for me, ain't ya? It'll only hurt for a lil bit. Jus' a few minutes of pain, nothin' too bad. I'll be done before ya know it."

He unsnapped your belt with one hand and worked on the button of your jeans as you fought and struggled in a panic. "N-No! No, don't-"

He cut you off by shhing you again. His blue eyes gleaming down at you with his pupils dilated. A sick smirk on his face. He was enjoying seeing you almost in tears, seeing you scared, feeling you fight him. He was a sadist, that was for sure.

You screamed and used your last bit of strength to knee him in the lower side as hard as you could. He grunted as you got away. But just enough to get a foot away before he grabbed you while you both were still on the ground.

He shoved you into a sitting position against the base of a tree. "Now, why ya fightin' for? Yer jus' makin it worse on yerself!...That knee kinda hurt, sweetheart. " He grinned that lopsided grin of his with his brows furrowed a bit. "The more ya fight, the worse its gonna get. I was gonna go easy on ya but now? I think you need tore up a lil bit. Need those sexy thighs to have some bruises even a few welts on that nice ass too-" He smacked the side of your ass through your jeans with a smirk. "I think you can handle it."

You stared at him with wide eyes as he held you by the throat up against the tree. On his knees while you sat. Everytime you raised an arm he squeezed tight enough to make your vision blurred. Once your arms fell to your sides he loosened it just enough to let you get tiny breaths of air. "Good...tha's a good toy for me."

You had tears in your eyes, gasping for air, sweat dripping off you as you could do nothing now. He was in control and he knew it. You felt small, helpless, vulnerable.

You whimpered with a cut off cry as you felt his calloused fingers dip into your jeans and feel your pussy. Running along the outers lips and just barely dipping in.

He pulled his hand out with a giant grin and a laugh at how wet you were. Coating his fingers in long slick trails of wetness from...The excitement? Adrenaline? Your body just reacting to this situation? Either way, you jerked your head away with shame.

"Ain't that jus' beautiful... It's like you know jus' how to turn yerself on...." He ripped your jeans off and then ripped at that flannel to expose you more. "I think yer startin' to like this, baby...Do you like this? Do you like knowing I can take whatever I want from your body and you can't do nothin' to stop it? Ya like the rush of fightin' an' runnin' from me?"

You furiously shook your head and gasped when you felt his thumb make rough circles over your clit. Jolting and trying to squirm away with no where to go. He used his hand to jerk your head to look at him while he kept rubbing your now hardening clit. "Ah, ah. Yer gonna look at me and tell me how much this is turning you on."

You shook your head with his fingers still digging into your jaw. You grit your teeth trying to ignore the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. "No...No, I don't."

He smirked. "Really? That why yer pussys so wet?" He jeered. "Now...Say it."

You refused stubbornly and he pinched your clit lightly hood and all. Your back arched and jolted in pain and pleasure at the same time. But the pain was a bit more as he did it again harder this time as you forced out with shut clenched eyes. "I enjoy it!"

He chuckled and gently rubbed soothing circles over your aching clit. "There ya go...Oh sweetheart. That is so sensitive! I can't wait to make ya scream for me." He grabbed your chin roughly again and forced you to look at him while he rubbed you there.

You tried so hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your body betray you. But your brows rose up and your mouth parted as he smeared some wetness over your clit and used two calloused fingers to rub underneath and all around your aching bundle of nerves.

He smirked that lopsided toothy grin at you. "I don't know about you, Sweetheart, but my bodies tellin' me to take somethin' from this lil situation...What's yer body tellin' you?"

You whisper to him, face hot and tears in your lashes. "P-Please, don't."

A dark brow rose as his fingers dipped down lower. "Yer beggin'? Funny, I don't remember askin'. Ya need to realize somethin' here, darlin'...I'M in charge. Not you. And I don't remember askin' for permission or askin' if you wanted this...This is allll for me."

"P-Please-"

"Hush." He jeered, seeming to get short with you as his thick masculine digit barely went in before he took it out and did two. Your mouthed opened in a shaky gasp as he kept talking. "Now we're gonna do this my way. You just need t' shut up and let me enjoy this moment without all that bitchin'."

His fingers stretched you but there wasn't too much resistance with how wet you were. Just a short moment of discomfort with the sudden stretch before he started curling his fingers and twisting them up into that cushioned frontal wall. The man was the devil.

You couldn't even contain the whimpering moan as he kept a firm grip on your chin so he could see your face at all times.

"Oh God, don't." You softly moan out as he just picked up the pace on your already adrenaline high turned on body.

"I don't think ya get it, darlin'...This is happening one way or another. Here in Ambrose, yer gonna learn what I say goes and if I want to make yer body get an ounce of pleasure before I have my fun then that's jus' how it'll be...Just relax." He cooed the last part with an evil smirk.

This wasn't for your benefit. He just loved forcing it out of you. Loved seeing the shame on your face as your own body betrays you.

You released a sobbing sort of moan. He leaned forward. "Just...Give in Sweetheart." He chuckled and got closer to whisper in your ear. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yerself. Jus' let it feel good."

His fingers kept doing that upward tickling motion on your g spot as your thighs started to quiver. A gasp escaped you as he kept coaxing you with his fingers and his words to cum.

He grinned when you moaned louder, feeling your inner muscles clench his fingers a bit as that heated started pooling in you. "Oh, no more fight in ya, huh? Where did that fiesty lil fighter go?" He pulled his fingers out as you whined in protest. So close you could almost taste it. "Oh so you liked that. Well you ain't enjoying nothin' without me." He started undoing the fly on his coveralls.

You tried to have some resistance. Some form of pride left as you felt tears running down your cheeks and you numbly shook your head. In a pleading tone. "No."

He sternly told you in a half sneer half smirk. "I don't remember askin' you a damn thing about what you wanted." He pulled himself out. Hard as can be and even leaking a bit as he pumped his cock a few times "Whaddya think this dance is for? Yer in Ambrose now. This is what we do to sexy lil things like you that get in over their head."

He grabbed your arms and pushed in. Your head reeled back and...God damn...He felt...Good. He shouldn't! But his was such a perfect size and shape to you in your nervous, excited, fearful and turned on body. You could feel a second hearbeat in your clit and your inner walls ached. They ached so bad from his teasing that the stretch felt like much needed itch that had to be stratched. It hurt a little at how forceful he pushed in but it hurt so good at the same time as your head snapped back and your hips bucked at the sudden intrusion with a strangled cry from your lips.

He chuckled, not moving for only a few seconds. Grinning in pure sadistic pleasure. "Oh you like that, don't ya?" He pulled out thrust forward with a harsh grunt while gripping your hair; forcing you to look at him. "If I remember correctly, this whole thing!-" He thrust harshly again as you saw stars and felt a deep aching soreness in your lower abdomen that hurt but fuck it was a good hurt. The type of pain that was easily overlooked for the building pleasure you were feeling. "-Started from you trying to fight me so hard!" He grunted again through clenched teeth as he thrust hard into you, this time it hit deep and you cried in pain a little. "Well how you like it now, huh? Ya like it rough?"

You tried to bite your lip and shake your head and then the bastard switched it up. Pulling out halfway and doing short but fast trusts right on your g spot and you groaned low in your throat. He laughed at that.

"Oh yes you do, darlin'. All that fighting in the beginning? You just wanted me to get this out of your system." He kept thrusting grunting a bit as he leaned in and nibbled at your ear. "You like it when I'm in charge. Yer just too shy to admit it."

You gasp and tremble as that thrusting is so damn firm and hard and fast and the fucker angled his hips upward. He knew what he was doing as you felt your inner muscles involuntarily clench around him.

"There we go, beautiful. Now ya ain't thinkin' bout it s' hard." He raised your chin to look at him. "Ya don't wanna ruin this moment. Cause this might be the best moment of whatever time you got left...So just enjoy the ride." He let go of your chin and shoved your thighs upward while thrusting deeper and fadter. "Oooh fuck, baby...Shit." He grunted out with a tiny moan himself as he went hard in you.

Your eyes rolled back and a tiny grunt of 'no', 'please', 'I can't' escaped you every thrust as your inner muscles betrayed you. Starting to do a milking motion around his cock on their own as he moaned a bit.

"Oh, that's it. S' good for me...It's alright, sweetheart. Nobody has to know ya like this. This can be yer dirty lil secret."

"I d-don't." You forced out not even believing it yourself as your face screwed up in pleasure the deeper he went.

"Hah, there's that face again." He grunted out with a slight smirk. Sweating and face flushed as he drove into you. "Ya can't hide it, darlin'. I can see it in yer eyes. I know you like this. Your sweet pussy keeps suckin' me in...Sopping wet....Urgh!" He groaned when you involuntarily clenched and it made his face screw up into a sneer as he pounded you on the forest floor against the base of that tree. He jerked your head back by your hair. "You love this. It's why I can make ya do anything. You're mine in Ambrose. You do what I say and you love it or learn t' love it."

"Noo-" You moaned out feeling yourself getting closer as tears kept pricking your eyes.

"Yes!" He laughed out through a moan while his blue eyes stared into yours. "You're doin' such a good job of makin' this fun for me. What a good toy you are, fightin' me and actin' like you don't like it. Yer goddamn pathetic, darlin'. A filthy, naughty lil liar whose pussy is betrayin' em."

You trembled, high pitched cries escaping you. "Yess-" You shook yourself realizing with shame you just said that. "No." You gasped.

He grinned while he kept thrusting a spot you seemed to like. "Yeah, ya like it. I think this whole chase was jus' you puttin' up some walls so you didn't look so desperate...You're so pathetic darlin'. Don't try to fake it. You love this. Maybe I'll keep ya around a lil longer and walk ya around Ambrose on a leash? Show anyone and everyone what a good pet I can make you be...You'll get addicted to this, sweetie...Good lil whore-"

You couldn't contain it any longer as those wonderful tingles and seering heat just washed over you. You hung your head back and yelled out in orgasmic bliss as he kept fucking you. He was right, you did scream. You couldn't even hold it back and you didn't want to. This was too damn animalistic and primal and wrong not to cry out.

He stuttered his hips a bit at how hard your pussy was clenching him as your hips bucked. "Fuckin' shit, honey." He gasped out. As soon as you calmed down and your muscles where just contracting every so often he huffed with a smirk. "Ooh you are such a lil freak, darlin! I haven't had one like you in too damn long. Maybe I was wrong...You're not pathetic, yer disgusting. Yer body doesn't lie as much as yer mouth does." He leered with a sadistic grin as he panted while thrusting.

You laid there satisfied. The adrenaline gone...The game over as you gave him a lazy smirk while he kept thrusting.

He looked a bit perplexed while moving slower in you. "What's that face for? Ya finally ready to admit yer nothin' but a naughty toy for me?"

You grinned and leaned forward to kiss his nose. He completely stopped thrusting. Looking with wide eyes and a faint tinge to his face before giving you a wry smirk. "Hey, jus' cause the games over for you don't mean it is for me....Stop bein' sweet, damn it."

You chuckled, blissed out on cloud nine. God Damn that was the type of orgasm that...You need a nap, a drink, a cigarette. Fuck. All you could do was with tear streaked cheeks and watery eyes and a heated face just give him that dumb satisfied grin.

He thrust a few more times before you decided to help a bit. Tired of the game and wanting your lover to hurry up so you could go shower and cuddle in bed all night. You used those inner muscles to clench and unclench while swiveling your hips the best way you could. He gasped out. "Hey! Heey, I'm in charge!... Urgh, fuckin' damn it YN!" He screwed his face shut and groaned low in his throat as he thrusted a few more times before panting and staying in one spot. "...Shit....Uh fuck." He panted out before looking back up at you. Giving you an annoyed look.

"...We'll have to think of a better punishment for you. Yer too damn freaky and I'm gonna have to be creative. Yer such a bad lil thing." He finally cracked a smile himself.

You were out of subspace. The chase and fighting and roleplay was over as you huffed with a coy smile. "I am not."

He pulled out of you and just held you for a moment. "Oh, yes you are. It's okay to be naughty jus' don't be so stubborn bout it." He looked at you before kissing your forehead with a sigh. "But it does make it more fun. You're such a perfect toy...Still gotta make you work for it though."

I scoffed. "Why?"

He smirked down at you. "Cause you'll be the most spoiled brat if I let you get whatever you want whenever you want. You're insatiable. I'll never get anything done around here!"

"Oh no, spoiling me? How awful." You chuckled and he smiled fondly down at you in return.

He stared down at you, using his thumb to caress your cheek. This was...It was interesting. You WERE a victim...You and him bonded during your time in that room. What started out as a supposed Master/Slave dynamic quickly became something more the more he got to know you. He fought it hard but after a while he couldn't deny his caring for you. You were that missing piece. It helped your inner freak matched his. You brought out his sadism to the point he rarely got other victims. You were too fun. And he brought out that side of you that wanted to be dominated and taken care of. This chade thing was your idea after you taunted him he was gonna get too tired to chase victims eventually anyways. All it took was a 'wanna bet?' and that predatory sadistic look in his eyes and you took off in both fear and glee making him work for it the last hour. You playing like you hated it and fighting him was all part of the game.

"What?" You asked as he gazed down at you.

"...Thinking how much I hate you. How damn soft you've made me." He had his hand around your throat. "Should've killed ya months ago. Ain't never let a toy get this comfortable."

You knew he was bluffing as you gazed up at him with soft eyes. You quickly found a look that made him weak and you pulled it out when you really needed it. His eye twitched in irritation as he kissed you. "Damn you..."

You kissed him chaste and sweet before telling him pleasantly. "You love me."

I tiny smile tried tugging his lips. "I tolerate you." He lost the smile, sighed, then just let it come back again. "...I do care for ya quite a bit though, honey. I ain't felt like this in too damn long."

"Sounds like love but you're too stubborn. C'mon, say it. 'I love you'."

"Glad to hear you admit it, brat." He huffed in bemusement while giving mock anger. "You ain't in charge here."

"Come oonnn, it's just us in the woods! Ain't like you haven't said it before. " You teased softly.

He groaned, rolling his eyes and acting more annoyed then you knew he was. "Fine. I love ya, ya fuckin' pain in the ass....Should've left the glue on yer mouth when I had you tied to that chair." He sighed with a slight smirk. "Come on. Let's go home." He helped you up. His body language of steadying you and his eyes roaming over you to make sure he didn't hurt you as much as normal victims; betrayed him. You were so tempted to retort 'something something...Body's not lying as much as your mouth does-" But you relented. Getting your pants back on.

You flinched when moving.

He looked pleased with himself. "Sore?" All before looking at you tenderly. That look reserved only on rare occasions for you. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you home...This was fun."

You let him lead you, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You finally said once you got out of the woods. "I almost made it to the road. You know the rules...If Lester or some car picks me up to lead me back to Ambrose? I'm in charge. You will be MY toy for a change."

He let out a hearty laugh. "That ain't happened yet and it ain't gonna."

You gave him a determined smirk. "Wanna bet?"

"Are you challenging me? Yer gonna lose, darlin'. Remember your place...But fine. Jus' cause I know I'll win. How bout we do this again tomorrow night if you can walk properly."

You chuckled. A bit sore but too satisfied to care. "You're on, Bo...What collar do you wanna wear when I win?"

He smacked your ass while walking with an amused chuckle. Clearly not thinking you could win. "Oh shut up. I'm just gonna make that punishment even worse next time, smart ass." But he pulled you close and bent down to kiss your forehead as you both walked the empty Ambrose streets back to the house.

[moondrop-writes]

Hiiiii! I hope you’re doing well! If possible could I get an Apollo x wife!reader scenario where like he always promised he’d never cheat and stuff cause he only ever had eyes for her but then she finds out about Will and is really upset until she meets him and thinks he’s super cute (in like a motherly way off. Bonus points if she used to be with Ares before he started dating Aphrodite and so that’s why she was so upset cause she felt like it was Ares all over again even if they’re still good friends)

Sorry if this is too specific or confusing or something 😅

i love TOA Apollo, and while i've never been really sure how to write the POV of a god, i think this is pretty fair considering his in-universe persona written by Rick. thank you for the request and no worries about specifics! also, my apologies if this is super long lmao

You wiped your wet hands onto the rag by the kitchen sink as the dishes you had just washed dripped. Normally, you'd dry them as well, but you were running low on time, and you didn't want to miss a crucial part of the night in order to fix little details like that. Smiling to yourself, you folded the rag and hung it up by the sink again.

The oven timer beeped just in time for you to get your apron on, and you grabbed your mits in order to safely pull the tray out of the oven. You placed it on top of the stove, the scent of the warm turkey filling your nose. Usually, you'd preserve such a thing for a holiday, but today might as well be one.

Tonight, was the night Apollo visited you once more, after several months in his human form trailing after some young girl, he seemed to take a liking to. Now he was immortal again and could see you after all that time apart.

You'd seen him within the first month at some point. You couldn't do anything though, because that wasn't him. It could very well be, but it wasn't. Lester was average, but it wasn't Apollo. You didn't want to sound shallow thinking that, but there was nothing connecting the god of the Sun to some fake New York teen.

And it'd been too long since then. He said it was for your safety, but you knew it was just because he couldn't stand for you to see him like this. You could tell by the way he walked that he was just as uncomfortable with his new body as you were. He looked like a baby deer, stumbling on tiny legs as it struggled to learn how to walk.

That was not your Apollo, your Apollo was graceful with a flashing smile that sent gusts of warmth up your arms. But his looks weren't all that appealed to you so many years ago. He might've been vain, but he was lovely too. He cared for mortals as the great Titan Prometheus had, and everywhere he walked seemed to cheer someone up.

He was rather dependent on his looks, but around you all that seemed to shy away. It was just you, mortal flesh and human blood, and him, golden blonde hair and a blinding smile.

In your head, you tended to akin Apollo to a star. Despite being one of the oldest Olympians, he seemed so much younger. His sister, Artemis seemed so much more serious and mature, and Dionysus had also seemed to understand his duty more seriously. Being the god of the Sun was more habit than it was a job to Apollo.

While the gods floated and stayed still in their palaces, Apollo roamed around. Each day when he rose and ran the sun, he saw places he might've otherwise missed. Everything wondered him, whether it be a small cave in Taiwan or a forgotten shore in Australia.

Stars were small, surrounded by dozens of other stars and radiating their heat and charm. You thought that summarized Apollo pretty well.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts.

Startling, you jumped up, rushing to untie your apron and hang it up in the hallway. In nothing but a pair of over washed jeans and a loose beige t-shirt, you pulled the door open, and finally felt like you could breathe again for the first time in months.

There Apollo stood, bronze skin and gleaming hair, a suspiciously bright red Camaro sitting in your driveway.

"Y/N," he breathed, voice as soft as a deer's mewl.

"Apollo," you answered, and leaped forward. He caught you easily, as he had always done, and pulled you close. Your fingers clasped behind his neck, grasping onto blonde curls.

His own hands found your hips, fingers slipping into the belt loops of your jeans to tug you forward. His nose was buried in your hair, and he pressed repeated kisses to the crown of your head.

He was dressed in his godly attire, bands of gold, an airy white tunic, and gold sandals. He looked like a supermodel next to you, but he held you as if you were true treasure.

You pulled back for a moment, only to pull his head down so his lips could meet yours, pressed together in a locking kiss.

It could've gone on forever, but mortals needed air, and you pulled away to breathe. With your chest heaving, he smiled at you as if you'd hung the stars. One hand lifted to cup your cheek and cradled your face.

"I love you," he said, voice soft and almost weak sounding.

"I love you too," you said, pressing your cheek to his chest. You felt something break in you when you heard the slow beat of his immortal heart. It was like a dam that finally crashed.

Your eyes filled with months' worth of tears and you hiccupped wetly against his skin. "I-I missed you so-so much..." you sniffed, trying to calm down your rapid breathing, "don't ever do that again!"

He gave a small rueful laugh and wiped at your tears. "I'll try," he said, and that was enough.

The two of you went inside, and he familiarized himself with everything again. You ate dinner, with soft talk of what'd you'd been up to the past few months. He was unusually quiet and kept glancing out the window to the sky as if it were going to disappear.

He followed you back to your bedroom and changed into some clothes that had been sitting in your dresser for months, awaiting him. You were in the bathroom attached to your room, combing your hair as he sits on the bed watching you.

You placed down the comb with a small clattering sound and turned to him. Your palms were flat on the countertop.

"What's up with you? You're...quiet," you ask, biting your lip. He blinks and runs a hand through his hair before standing and striding over to you.

He wraps his arms around you and hides his face in your neck. "Sorry, I... I've got a lot on my mind..." It was weird seeing him like this, so unsure of himself. Even before, when he would melt in your hands like putty and show his true self as a soft sweet husband, he was never uncertain. Not around you, at least.

You take his hands in yours and press a kiss to the inside of his palm. "Then confide in me. I'm here, and I don't plan on leaving."

He looks away and you recognize the expression easily.

Shame.

"Apollo," you say, a bit uneasily.

"Yes?"

"Tell me," You urge. He hides his face in the flesh of your neck again and presses a kiss to your nape.

"I made a promise, a while ago, and I broke it," he admitted, and you scoured your mind for a time where he'd done such a thing.

You held his hand, the new ring gleaming on your finger. Under Apollo's sunlight, it shone like a star in the night sky, but not even it could compare to the light of his smile.

He kissed your forehead, and said, "No demigod kids, I promise. Not even yours."

You laughed and swatted at his arms. "Be serious," you huffed, "and thank you."

"Mhm," he hummed, smiling against your temple.

Instinctively, you pushed him back, second-guessing your strength and gasping when he banged into the doorframe. He winced and held a hand to his shoulder blade.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head. "How old? No--how many? How--how could I have been so stupid?"

"Y/N..." he tried, voice breaking halfway through your name. It didn't matter, you were louder.

"No, answer the question!"

He closed his eyes, face twisted with distain as he cowered. The god, Apollo, cowering to the wrath of mere mortal.

He breathed in to steady himself.

"Five."

Your face contorted into one of anguish, then horror, then anger.

You cared not for the pained expression on his face when you pulled off your wedding band and flung it at him. He caught it and held it to his chest. "For fifteen years I thought you were loyal! But no. Did those years mean nothing to you? Could you have not waited another century for me to pass? God!"

You ran a shaking hand through your hair, and felt disgust rise within you.

"Please," he begged, but you were having none of it.

"Out!" you shrieked, "get out!"

He obliged, leaving you to fall to the floor, sobs falling from your lips.

It went like that for a while. A few weeks, you think. He tried, multiple times, but you didn't want to listen. How could you have thought he loved you? All those years of lies.

You didn't want to think about him. So, you didn't. You blocked all thoughts of Apollo out. That was until you were sorting through your mail and found one from a sender you weren't familiar with.

From, Will Solace, sent by Hermes Shipping & CO. to Y/N L/N

Curiosity taking over, you opened the letter, and began to read.

Dear, Y/N!

Hello, I'm sure my father has given you quite the issue, and I must say your anger is justified. I have not come to defend Apollo's actions but assist yours. I'm Will Solace, a half-blood son of your husband, my dad. He's been whining a lot at camp, but It's easy to tell how much he misses you. The whole time he was mortal he wouldn't stop talking about you. He claims that he's tried to talk to you, but you keep shutting him out, so I decided to take things into my own hands. You have all the right to ignore this, but I have a feeling you won't. As you're well aware, my father has had multiple demigod children since his marriage with you, which is wrong no doubt, all of my siblings agree. But I don't think he's talked to my mother once since my birth, and Austin said he hadn't seen him before camp since he was four, so, I think it's safe to assume he hadn't cared much for our mothers. But he did care for you. I know my dad, and I know how he used to be all those years ago, which kind of concerns me for you, but I'll stay quiet about that. If he stayed with you this long, then he plans to stick it out. I truly believe he cares for you, and if so, I'd like to meet you. If possible, please come to XXX cafe at 1:30 next Friday.

With care, Will Solace.

You didn't realize you were crying till teardrops were dripping off your cheeks.

With a racing heart, you walked over to the calendar. The letter had been later than probably intended, which meant next Friday, was actually tomorrow.

So, it came to the question of whether or not you would go.

You missed Apollo so much. He was right there, and you could hold him and have him as much as you wanted, but you pushed him away. You let your anger blind you, however justified it may be, and ran from the man that loved you most.

Then it was decided. You'd go. You'd meet Will, and you'd force Apollo to apologize.

Now that you were there, waiting outside the cafe anxiously, the plan didn't seem so fool proof. You flattened down the fabric of your summer dress and ran your hands along the strap of your purse, eyes searching for anybody that may resemble Apollo.

Will isn't hard to find, and like his father, the world seems to center itself around him when he's near.

His hair is blonde and curly, just like Apollo's, and falls over his ears and hangs just above his eyes. Piercing blue find yours, and sun-kissed skin shifts to show a blinding smile. You'd expected them to look similar, but not near identical.

He runs over, wearing a pair of shorts and a nice t-shirt, hand raised in a wave. He stops a few feet from you and holds out a hand.

"Will Solace, it's so nice to meet you. Apollo talks a lot about you," he says, eyes bright and cheery. You were sure you would've thought he was annoying if he was anybody else but knowing that this was Apollo's kid (your stepson? No, that was a weird thought) made it sort of endearing.

You found yourself smiling back as you took his hand.

"You mentioned," you say, clasping hands, "I'm Y/N."

"Let's go inside, shall we?"

Turns out, Will is very likeable. Every word is filled with genuine joy, and he listens intently. You can see the resemblance in looks, but he must get this side of himself from his mother. His nose twitches when confused, and his ears go pink when he's embarrassed.

You think it's cute, the way he opens himself up so easily to you. He finds hidden motherly qualities in yourself, that you weren't even sure you had.

That's how you find yourself inviting him to your house, where you fixed him some lemonade and grabbed some cookies from the pantry for the two of you to snack on as you sat on the porch.

Will finished his previous sentence, placing down a half-empty glass of lemonade. His brows are furrowed, and his usual smile is set in a deep frown. You wanted to rid him of it, and ease away any worries, as a mother should.

"Y'know, growing up without Apollo was hard, but I managed. It was my mother that was difficult. She was distant, hardly there. To be fair, she's famous, but it was still hard. She never made cookies--or made me lemonade. I... you're everything I wished for her to be."

When you stayed quiet, staring down at your lap, he stuttered to correct himself. "I'm sorry if that's weird---I, well, --" you tugged him close, cautious of the food.

He was pressed up against your side, and as soon as his skin met yours he melted, and let you hug him close and warm.

"It's not weird."

"Are you sure?" he said, voice quiet, unsure. It was the same tone Apollo had used.

"Certain."

He pressed a bit closer. "I feel like a baby," he laughed, "fifteen-years-old and I'm being held like a toddler."

"It's always good to be held sometimes," you say, rubbing your hand up his arm. He sniffed, and you didn't have to look down to know that he was holding back tears. How had the tone shifted so quickly?

"I'm sorry," he says, voice thick with emotion. He moves to get up, ears tinged pink, "I shouldn't be doing this. You're not even my mother--"

"Stop it. Calm down and relax."

He does, only after you have to forcibly tug him back down. He settles down next to you, and takes deep breaths to push away the tears in his eyes.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but your legs are beginning to cramp from being in the same position and Will is letting out soft snores against your collarbone. The sun is sinking into the horizon, and you try not to jump when he speaks.

"You're good with him," Apollo says, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

You frown, "you say that like he's a dog."

He looks away and shrugs, "I'm not good with kids, you know that."

"Neither am I," you huff, and your arms tighten around Will.

"I think Will has a different opinion."

"We all do," you say, and look down as Apollo gets closer. He settles beside you and whispers his next words.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I can do to please you anymore."

You close your eyes and sigh. "Just--stay, okay?"

He nods, "okay."

And he does. Apollo sits there until the sun is gone, his chin on your head, and arms holding both you and Will firmly. You're asleep before you know it, and he's hoisting you both up to bring you inside.

He places Will on the couch with a light blanket, before bringing you to your bedroom. He lays you down, and presses a feather-light kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he whispers, hand holding yours.

Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around his, and he beams.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 17th. Choking. "Stay." Vincent Sinclair X GN! AFAB! Reader.

Hey, hey, hey! Another day, another fic! I hope you like this one, it's one of my faves from this event, I did some good changes and hope it hits with you all. On we go re-doing Kinky December.

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.2K (Old Length. 1.1K.) Warnings. Slight Dub-Con. Restraints. Masturbation. Teasing. Voyeurism. Jealousy. Manhandling. Cunnilingus. Choking. Rough Sex. Vaginal Sex. Possessive Behaviour. Dirty Signing. 

—

It hadn’t always been this way, you had more freedom before, but after a particular incident with some people visiting Ambrose, that had swiftly ended. A new group of people rolled through, and they tried to take you with them. You were supposed to hide when anyone other than Vincent, Lester and Bo were in town, but you stumbled into the group by mistake. You tried to fight, tried to tell them you were fine, they weren’t having it, a strong hand around your wrist, pulling you along as it was insisted that you must get out. It did not end well for them. 

He deemed it better if he could keep you in his sights, he wanted you close enough to always be able to see you and know exactly where you were at all times, and it wasn’t like you could say no or stop him.

That is how the vast majority of most of your days were now spent, on his bed in his workshop. Laying or sitting there as he worked, sometimes you watched him or read books he would bring you or sleep or not much of anything in particular. 

Today you were feeling restless and bored. You watched him on and off as he worked, making himself busy with more sculpture work. You allowed your mind to wander as you watched how he worked with his hands. Thoughts about what those hands were capable of, and what they had done to you, recalling memories of his bruising grip and how easily he could crush you if he really wanted to. 

You decided you had enough of being alone on the bed, you figured out exactly how today could better be spent. You adjusted, your legs were strapped down to the bed still, restraints on your ankles, legs spread, able to use your hands, your wrists free as they were usually unless you had done something bad enough that he saw fit to restrain them too. Deciding to take it slowly, your hand on your inner thigh and sliding up, slowly, you kept your eyes on him, he was still very preoccupied. Your fingers found the edge of your panties, and you started in nice and easy, it felt good, sliding over yourself, you had the thought wondering when the last time you had done this to yourself. Seemed like you never got the chance to, you had kind of missed it, you got into it much quicker than you had expected to initially. 

You could feel the fabric getting damp under your touch, fingers increasing pressure as you rolled them over your clit, the familiar feeling of easy pleasure warm and low inside of you. Up and down, wetness starting to coat your fingers, dragging them up and rubbing over yourself, you let yourself start to vocalize how good it felt, not loud but not doing much of anything to quiet yourself either. It felt surprisingly good, but not nearly enough, you were hoping to entice him soon.

You needed more. You needed him. It wasn’t long until he noticed. He had his back to the mattress where you were, his hands slowed, and he turned, it seems that he had finally heard you and was now watching you. 

A hard swallow when you noticed his gaze on you as you were continuing to touch yourself, a little more tentative for a moment before growing more bold. 

First thing you said in hours, mouth dry and voice a little rough as you uttered his name, “Vincent.”

You touched yourself harder, writhing against the sheets, he turned back around, and you were sad for a moment, thinking you had failed, but then he got up. Hands on the workbench as he did, chair almost falling over, he turned back to you. He continued to watch you, leaning against the bench for a moment, you kept going, your eyes must have been pleading by this point. Finally, he seemed to sigh and reach up, he removed his mask and set it aside, he seemed to search the table for a moment and quickly found what he was looking for. You watched as he started to come over to you, heavy footsteps as he gathered his hair and put it up, and that made your heart nearly stop. 

You spoke again, softer, questioning, “Vinny?”

What did he have in mind that he needed his hair up in a bun like that, out of his way? He fell to his knees at the end of the mattress, and he grabbed your ankles and yanked you down, you yelped, knees bent, and he had pulled you much closer to him. He reached up and ripped the thin and soaked fabric from your aching core easily, tearing it quickly and tossing it aside. His arms locked around your thighs and his mouth was on you, you groaned, it felt good, but he was being so rough. It was intense, boarding on painful, this wasn’t about pleasing you, this was about getting you ready, you were simply along for the ride, you had to endure it. 

Crying out, your back arching and your eyes shut tightly, “Vin! Fuc-”

You managed to adjust, breathing becoming ragged as he worked you over, you actually might cum from this if he kept it up. You tensed and were tempted to reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, but you resisted the urge and moaned for him instead. Your fingers in the sheets, and you could feel that pleasure building, and all too suddenly it stopped. 

Before you could even think to move or question it he was on top of you, his hand on your throat, it made you gasp, eyes flying open, looking up at him. He had one hand on your throat, his other one pulling himself free of his clothes. He was on top of you, weight heavy as he lined up and sunk inside of you in one long stroke making you gasp, even with the prep it was so much to take, stretching you quickly. 

His other hand free now that he grabbed and had both of your wrists in his grip and pinned above your head easily. You struggled, and his hand tightened on your throat, a warning to not put up too much fight, that look, fuck he seemed less than pleased. Then you remembered, part of why you didn’t touch yourself often, he didn’t like it. He wanted to be the only one touching you like this, he is possessive over every fucking part of you, wanted to be the only one making you feel like that. 

His grip tightened on your throat further, and it made you clench down on him, he pulled out halfway and his hips snapped forward, hard, and it made you moan out his name. He took you just like that, rushed, gripping your wrists so tightly as he fucked into you, choking you firmly, looking down at you, your body jerking with the force of his thrusts. You were a mess under him, moans and gasps, almost sobbing in pleasure, all much more strained as you struggled to breath, thighs on either side of his hips.

His hand slipped down from your wrists, down your chest, and you feel his hand push your shirt up, his hips slow, and you feel his fingers tracing a familiar pattern into your skin, one you’d come to know intimately. With one hand still locked on your throat, burying his thick cock in you over and over, writing one word into your sweat slick flesh over and over again that one word that was punctuating each drawn out thrust, was of course, “Mine.”

[hotnbloodied]

can you do part 2 of

Yan!Loser X Reader

about how she wake up to see her yandere loser friend there and how she low key also like him and into what he’s doing (and also wants to starts a family)but is to embarrass to tell him (and can there also be smut to)

Sure, this is a bit of a shorter one since I'm not too good at doing part 2 of my one shots. Oh, and, since part 1 was with a gender neutral reader I decided to keep the reader as gender neutral. Hope you enjoy.

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Loser X Reader (pt. 2)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: kidnapping, drugging, dub-con, obsessive behavior, confinement, delusional yandere.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Pt. 1

Your head felt heavy, your throat felt dry. What the fuck happened last night? You tugged at your arms and realized you were stuck, your heart rate picks up, waking you up even further. You look around the room, it was very minimal with a red and black theme to it. The main standout was the pictures of you plastered all over the room. “Hello?” You shouted out as best as you could, “is anyone there?” Not long after you heard footsteps and the door to the room bursting open, Lester gripping the handle, a smile creeping onto his face. “Hello darling!” You feel your brows crease before asking, “darling…?” “That’s right! I knew we were meant to be together ever since you sat next to me when we met.” You looked at Lester, you didn’t realize he felt like this the entire time. It made you think back to all the time you two spent together and reflect on the relationship between the two of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt pressure on the bed. Lester was making his way over to you, slowly looming closer and closer until he was on top of you. He laid his head on your chest, “your heartbeat sounds different when you are awake, darling. There’s more life to it.” You blush at his words, he’s always been like this hasn’t he? All the times you thought he muttered something under this breath only for him to pretend nothing of the sort happened. “Lester, wait–” He cuts you off, “no, I’m not waiting anymore.” The sound of tape reverberated through the room and before you could make another peep you feel it being plastered over your mouth. “I’ll show you how much I love you, then you’ll understand that I’m the only one for you.”

Lester starts shakily kissing your cheeks, hot breath touching your skin after each kiss. You could feel him slowly starting more and more worked up by how he’s rubbing himself on your thigh. You couldn’t help but think he was a little cute with his actions. Suddenly you feel something wet enter your ear, this tongue? Shiver involuntarily course through your spine and you whimper through your taped mouth. “You know, I’ve always wanted to try giving a hickey. You’ll let me, right darling?” He proceeded to chomp down on your neck, making you flinch, his teeth slowly grazing on the skin before his lips proceeded to slowly but harshly suck. Ah fuck, he was getting you worked up, you could feel it in your pants; which he snaked his way into. “Oh? Looks like I’m doing a better job than I expected in loosening you up darling. Enough so you can take me.” His fingers play with your opening as he still works on creating more hickies on your neck. You quickly get to the point where you’re just desperate to be filled now as you move your hips with his fingers trying to get to your climax. He stops working his fingers and repositions himself with his face between your legs, tonguing, licking and lapping at your sensitive bits causing your brain to get all fuzzy and your body to feel like it was melting into more pleasure.

Finally, he positions himself between your legs and slowly fills you until he’s all the way in. He pumps his dick in and out of you, the rhythm starting off slow but soon picking up speed until it felt like the pleasure cascades into a crescendo and the orgasm ripples through both of you. He finishes in you and slides next to you after the fact, cooing about wanting a family with you. “I think our children would look so cute, what do you think? …Oh right! Your mouth is still taped isn’t it? I’m going to take it off okay? But you have to be good.” There was no way that tape being ripped off your face wasn’t going to hurt but, fuck, it stung. He watched intently as you adjusted your mouth to being free again, eagerly awaiting your next words with heightened anticipation. “I think…” you start, “we got this far, but I expect a house,” you joked.

Lester looks at you with a blank expression, it more so seemed surprised, “wait, so you agree?” You blush, “it’s not the worst plan in the world.” Lester engulfed you into a hug, “oh thank you, thank you darling. I swear, I’ll make you the happiest in the world,” before showering you with kisses. He almost couldn’t believe it, you were willing to be his, well, you were going to be his no matter what but this made things easier for him. Not that it mattered much, you were never going to ever escape him, even if you wanted to darling.

Pt. 1

[mickeyswhore]

Runaway

Request: hello! ive been having MAJOR house of wax/vincent brainrot....im wondering if you can do a vincent sinclair small fic? or something like that, im not used to fic terms,,,,,, it can be anything you want to write abt :3

A/N: Vincent Sinclair is so pookie, having brainrot about him is so valid and I totally get you, I hope you like it, let me know. 🫶

Summary: After suffering a mental breakdown, you decide to go on a road trip. You stumble upon a small town called Ambrose, and things escalate from there.

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: just your run of the mill murder mentions, nothing much and dark undertones, this was low key fluffly.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

After you had a mental breakdown for being too overworked, you decided to go on a road trip so you can relax and just see new places. You avoided the highways because driving on those was extremely depressing so you were in country roads, now you were in Louisiana. It was hot and you were so thankful for your A/C being so powerful.

You decided to stop in a small town that you stumbled upon, it was around 1:00 PM and it was time to get more snacks and water, you parked your car in front of the small shop and you left the car. When you tried to enter the shop, it was locked. You found it odd since it was 24 hours, but you decided to wait to open again, you were in no rush so you decided to wait in your car.

Losing track of time playing games on your phone, you heard someone knocking at your window, you yelled and put your hand on your chest. You looked and you saw a man in a suit, you smiled tightly at him and left the car to be able to talk to him.

“You alright, sugar?” Bo thought it was extremely odd that not even Lester was able to see where you were coming from.

“Yeah, just passing by. I needed to buy some snacks for the journey, but it seems to be closed.” You pointed at the shop and Bo smiled at you.

“I think the owner had to leave for a few hours, you’re than welcomed to wait. But you shouldn’t in the car, come on I’ll walk you around the city, we have a wax museum that’s really cool. I’m Bo, by the way.” He raised his hand for you to shake and you did, you also introduced yourself.

The two of you walked towards the museum, and Bo kept asking questions such as why you were travelling, where you were heading and why you were by yourself. You didn't like the fact that he was almost interrogating you but you tried to keep your answers to a minimum. You weren’t to divulge the state of your mental health for this trip to be possible, you didn't resent Bo, you simply blamed it on southern hospitality so you remained pleasant and polite.

“Here we are, I have the keys to it so I can show you around.” Bo opened the door and allowed you to enter before him and he started telling the story about the museum. “Trudy was the woman that started it all, she had great talent we try to keep her legacy alive.” You looked at the the wax figures and they’re amazing, you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“It’s beautiful, who’s the current artist?” You asked whilst still looking at the statues, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life before.

“His name is Vincent.” Bo informed you, he was watching you admiring Vincent’s work with genuine wonder and that made him smile.

“I’d love to meet him.” That was the only outcome for you, meeting the genius behind these sculptures, you felt a connection with him even though you have no idea who he is.

���He’s, well how do you say it? A recluse?” Bo explained to you and the way you deflated made his heart clench, why was he so affected by your sadness? He already looked at you with this sense of protection, he didn't want to kill you, it was strange.

“That’s a pity, it would be great to meet him.” You looked so sad, and Bo couldn’t have that. Vincent would kill him but if it was a bad idea Vincent was going to kill you anyway.

“Well, he lives down here. You can try to talk to him, can’t make any promises though.” Bo showed you the way and so you did, it was dark and you could tell that candles were lit.

Vincent was freaking out, why would Bo do this? Vincent didn't want to kill you at all, and you seemed very interested in his art. Ever since you and Bo entered the museum, Vincent was admiring you and he wanted to make you his muse.

“Hello? Vincent? I was looking at your art and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to meet you if you want.” The hope in your voice was the most amazing thing for Vincent, you were so respectful and you loved his art Vincent’s heart was skipping a beat, he wanted to get to know you but you would scream and run away as soon as you saw him. “I hope you can hear me, your art is amazing.” Vincent took a deep breath and showed in your field of vision and he couldn’t even look up to your face of disgust.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you, Bo said that you were more of an introvert so it’s an honour.” You got close to him and raised your hand to shake Vincent’s, he reluctantly raised his and looked at you and you had the biggest smile Vincent has ever seen. He didn't say anything and you assumed that he was a man of few words. “Well, I think that I should leave you be. You’re probably very busy and I didn't mean to intrude, so I should get going.” Vincent started panicking, he didn't want you to leave.

Vincent grabbed your arm and guided you to one of his almost finished figure, you were admiring Vincent’s work and he was admiring you, your eyes, your cheeks, your complexion. He didn't want you to leave, and he didn't want you to die, he needed you.

“That’s amazing, Vincent. Thank you for showing me this.” You put your hand in his arm and smiled at him warmly, you couldn’t deny that his shy nature drew you in. You wanted to learn more about him, maybe you could stay a bit longer in this town. Vincent nodded and in a bold move, he put his hand on top of yours. “I hope that you can say yes, but totally alright if you don’t…would you like to go out for a cup of coffee with me?” You internally cringed with how awkward you were but Vincent couldn’t help but love it. He nodded and he was glad he did, because he was able to see the biggest smile he has ever seen.

“Great, well I better find a hotel. Do you know any?” Vincent nodded his head, he would need Bo’s help to keep you here. He doesn’t want you to leave.

You’re his, his muse, forever.

Bo already got your car broken when he didn't hear any screams he realised that Vincent didn't want you to leave, at all. Meanwhile, you and Vincent were spending this time contemplating art and talking about it, you were so excited where this was taking you, and Vincent already knew that you weren’t leaving at all.

[babybatss-blog]

A REUNION LIKE NO OTHER (PT2)

totk!link x f!reader, 860 words

authors note: Thanks for the love on the first part! Here is the second one which is from Links perspective, I don’t think I’ll go beyond in this story this is just a little wrap up (unless y’all have any ideas on where I should take it)

cw: none ~

summary: Link is now reunited with his wife, and ready to meet his little girl.

Once Link woke up on a foreign island with a foreign arm, his thoughts immediately flew to you. His gorgeous wife, on the border of giving birth all alone and waiting for him. He did whatever he could to return, using his expertise from being the princesses guard to his advantage to restore your family’s peace.  

And now his hard work has paid off, with you standing in front of him as gorgeous as ever. “My beautiful Link” you say, caressing Link’s hair with that same caring gaze. “We’ll find Zelda, I promise. Just because she’s the princess, doesn’t mean she isn’t strong.” He knows you’re right, because you always are. You’re his rock, always calming his nerves and doubts after having the world on his shoulders.

He nods in reply, unable to get the words out as per usual. But now more than usual, because you had the baby that the two of you have wanted forever. When you told him you were pregnant the two of you were in bliss for at least a month. All you wanted was to be a mother, and all he wanted was for you to be a mother. And now, the dream has come true. “Shall we go meet our baby?” You ask, reading his mind the same as ever. You lock hands with his natural one and lead him out, ignoring the perplexed crowd still around the two of you. As you walk, he admires your face, still almost dazed by the fact you are reunited. The way your eyes twinkle and your mouth creases in a smile in the same as ever. He hopes the baby takes after you.

When the two of you arrive at the camp, it doesn’t take long for everyone to notice his appearance. That familiar yet uncomfortable whispering momentum enters with Link, eyes glued to him, and mouths covered by hands concealing their gossip. “Over here is the tower. We plan to use that for land surveying, and Purah said that she needs help from you with that. And there are the stables, Epona is getting great care by the stable hand Lester. Oh and over there…” You tug him over to the centre “Is where Navi is!” A guard stamps his weapon on the floor three times, which causes a harsh rumble. Low and behold, the bunker that Link remembers from 100 years ago opens, revealing a considerable shelter filled with people. It is unbelievable to him that all this advancement has been garnered in the couple of months he has been gone, almost subtly grateful that so many people have come together to find him and Zelda. His attention is quickly brought off this fact when he enters the bunker and sees a cot, gently rocked by a nurse and donned with a mobile he remembers you making in the first trimester.

He locks eyes with you, gaining an affirmative nod that signals its truly time to meet his baby girl. Link slowly walks forward, oddly nervous despite the fact he has been dreaming of this moment from the moment he met you. Peeking over the crib, he sees bright blue eyes blinking widely at him. His eyes swell with tears as he scoops his baby into his arms, who immediately somehow recognises him and therefore grabs his shirt in her precious little hand. Link stands there for probably ten minutes in a comfortable silence with his daughter, taking in every little breath and murmur she makes. “She looks just like you.” You say, now appearing at his shoulder and looking at Navi just as lovingly as he did. He smiles and looks down. “She does, but she has your smile.” You hum, wrapping your arms around Link from behind to enjoy your first ever family hug.

“You know… I think Navi would love to go on her first ever adventure with us.” Link’s eyebrows crease, inquisitive towards what you mean. “I know you want to find Zelda, and we won’t stop you. I’ll follow you to the end of the world Link, and so will Navi.” Now rejecting the hug Link turns around, fully facing you. Never in his wildest dreams would he think to put the two of you in danger, but he also never thought about the fact it is his responsibility to find Zelda. “We will be safe Link. I know if anything happens you will protect us, but I helped you on your journey before and I’ll do it again.” Link takes a deep breath, understanding what is at hand for the three of you. Even if he is the hero of Hyrule he knows he has you and Navi by his side, with another adventure to be had once again. 

[theroosterfairytaler]

You'll be mine in time - oneshot | Bo Sinclair x Female reader

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Summary: Like any victim of the Sinclair brothers, her car suddenly stopped working in the middle of nowhere. And when you have no other options, you'll most likely pick one that you know for sure will bring you trouble. The scary thing is, you don't even know what the trouble is until you have done it. And now you deeply regret it.

She saw herself as a cautious woman, others might say paranoid, but she sees things in a way that others may miss from the first time encountering something, or in this case someone. She dosen’t hate men, no, how could she? She likes all kinds of people, she dosen’t know why she's attracted to random types of people, but she does. Even so, men always made her feel icky, she does that with certain women too, but with men it was all too common. That's because she knew what men were capable of, maybe it was because of those stories she was told as a child, perhaps it was from her own experiences, or maybe she watched too many crime documentaries? Nonetheless, having no choice to go to this suspiciously empty town and talk to this man that the roadkill guy named Lester told her about made her feel very anxious deep within.

"Well, aint that a new face. Hello, Darlin'. In Ambrose, we usually don't see many people come around to take a look at the place." He gazed at her with ravenous eyes, revealing a gloom within him that they are sadly not ignorant. "What made ya come here?" She noticed the way he looked at her and did not like it one bit but held it together for the sake of being civilised.

"Car troubles..." She almost said it in a neutral way, yet a hint with quiteness in it.

"Car troubles, huh? That's a shame, sugar. We don't have a gas station or nothin' like that 'round these parts anymore. You're lucky you stumbled across me." He smiles, but there's something not quite right about it. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm Bo Sinclair. I run the only mechanic shop in town. Why don't you come on inside and I'll take a look at your car. It's the least I can do for a pretty little thing like you." He steps closer, invading her personal space just a bit. His voice drops an octave as he says, "Pleasure doin' business with you, Miss...?" He leaves it open-ended, waiting for her name, but his eyes never leave hers. There's a palpable tension in the air.

"(Y/n)... Just (Y/n)."

"Just (Y/n), huh? Well that's a real purdy name for a real purdy girl."

He leans in closer, his breath hot on her neck. She can smell the tobacco on him, mingling with the gasoline and motor oil that clings to his skin. It's intoxicating in a strange way. Bo reaches out and brushes a stray lock of hair from (Y/n) face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers linger on her cheek a moment too long.

"You know, it's a mighty lonely life out here for a man like me. Don't get a whole lotta company, 'specially not as pretty as you." His voice is a low rumble, almost a growl.

Bo's hand falls to her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Tell ya what, sugar. Why don't you come on inside the shop with me? I'll get started on fixin' your car, and you can wait inside where it's nice and cool. I've got a real comfy couch you can stretch out on."

His smile widens, showing just a hint of teeth. There's a predatory gleam in his eye as he looks at (Y/n), like a wolf eyeing a lamb. She suddenly smacked away his hand, as her doe eyes changed to one of boredom.

"Stop pretending, what you say dosen’t match the look in your eyes." Bo's eyes narrow at (Y/n)'s rejection, a flicker of anger passing over his features before he schools his expression into a neutral mask. He takes a step back, giving her some space, but his gaze remains fixed on her.

"Now hold on just a minute, darlin'. I didn't mean nothin' by that. Just tryin' to be hospitable, is all." His voice is smooth as honey, but there's a dangerous edge to it. "You're right though, I ain't much for small talk."

He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up. "Look, I'm just a simple mechanic tryin' to make a livin' in a one-horse town. Ain't got time for games or pretenses." Bo jerks his head toward the garage. "Your car's out back. Pop the hood and I'll take a look-see. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so to figure out what's wrong." He turns to walk away, but pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at (Y/n). "You're welcome to wait inside if you want. Or you can sit in your car and watch me work. Up to you, sugar." With that, he disappears into the garage, leaving (Y/n) alone in the yard. The air feels heavy, charged with an unspoken tension. (Y/n) can't shake the feeling that she's being watched, even though she's alone. Probably because of that guy with long hair at the window, yeah he ain't that slick, she knows he's up there. Either way, she followed Bo to make sure he was actually fixing her car and wasn't messing with it.

As she follows Bo into the garage, the door slams shut behind her with a loud bang, making her jump. The space is dimly lit, illuminated only by a few bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. Tools and spare parts are strewn haphazardly across workbenches, giving the place a chaotic, almost menacing atmosphere. Bo stands by (Y/n)'s car, leaning against the hood. He's got a grease-stained rag in his hand, which he's using to clean his fingers. When he sees her, he grins, flashing those perfect white teeth.

"Didn't think you'd follow me in here, darlin'. But I'm glad you did." He straightens up, tossing the rag aside. "Now, let's see what we're dealin' with here."

Bo pops the hood and leans in, peering at the engine. He runs his hands along the various components, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he straightens up again, a knowing look on his face.

"Looks like your alternator's shot. I can replace it for ya, but it'll take a bit of time. Couple hours, maybe." He leans against the car, his body language relaxed, but there's a tension in his eyes that belies his casual demeanor. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, sugar? I'll get to work." He gestures to a ratty old couch in the corner of the garage, the upholstery torn and stuffing spilling out. "Or you can stick around and watch me work. I don't mind the company."

As he speaks, (Y/n) catches a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision. She swivels her head to see a man, Bo's twin, watching her from a window high up in the garage wall. But she dosen’t know that the man is his twin, or is related to him at all. His long hair hangs limply, partially obscuring his face, but those dead eyes bore into her soul. (Y/n) shudders, suddenly feeling very exposed and alone. She turns back to Bo, but he's already disappeared under the hood of her car, humming tunelessly to himself. She took a seat at his work bench, as she just watched him work, but also keeping an eye out for the masked man.

Bo works diligently on (Y/n)'s car, his movements precise and efficient. He hums softly to himself, a tuneless melody that echoes in the cavernous garage. Every so often, he glances over at (Y/n), a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

As he works, he chatters idly, his Southern drawl thick and syrupy. "Y'know, I ain't had a visitor this purdy in a long time. Most folks 'round here are too scared to come into Ambrose. They say it's haunted, y'know? On account of all the wax figures."

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates in his chest. "But I reckon you ain't afraid of no ghost stories, are ya, sugar?" Bo pulls his head out from under the hood, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He eyes (Y/n) speculatively, his gaze roaming over her body in a way that makes her skin prickle.

"Y'know, I got me a real nice collection of wax figures back at the house. Some of 'em are real lifelike. I bet you'd like to see 'em, wouldn't ya?" He leans against the workbench, his body looming over (Y/n)'s. His eyes are dark, glittering with a hunger that sends a chill down her spine. "Course, I ain't much for entertainin' guests. 'Specially not ones as pretty as you. Might get ideas in my head, y'know?"

Bo's hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against (Y/n)'s cheek. His touch is cold, sending a shiver through her body. "But I reckon I could make an exception. For a girl like you." She sighed a bit at that, this man was really insisting wasn't he?

"Do you usually try to get all kinds of girls on your bed, or is it just me?" Bo's eyes widen at (Y/n)'s boldness, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it settles into a smirk. He leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"Well now, ain't you a feisty one? I like that in a woman." His hand slides from her cheek to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. "And to answer your question, sugar, I ain't usually one to mix business with pleasure. But then again, you ain't exactly a usual kind of girl, are ya?"

He pulls back slightly, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every detail. "I reckon you're the kind of girl who knows what she wants. And I aim to please." Bo's other hand comes up to rest on (Y/n)'s thigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles through the fabric of her skirt. "So what do you say, darlin'? You wanna see my wax collection? Or maybe you got somethin' else in mind?" His voice is low and husky, filled with promise. The air between them crackles with tension, the garage suddenly feeling much too small, much too intimate.

Bo's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. He's so close that (Y/n) can feel the heat radiating off his body, can smell the earthy scent of his skin. It's intoxicating, overwhelming, and for a moment, she forgets to breathe. Bo notices (Y/n)'s discomfort, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He leans back slightly, giving her a modicum of space, but his hand remains on her thigh, a constant reminder of his presence.

"Aw now, don't be like that, sugar. I'm just tryin' to be friendly." His voice is smooth as honey, but there's a dangerous edge to it, like a knife hidden beneath silk. "You're right though. But you..."

He trails off, his gaze raking over her body, lingering on her curves. "Somethin' about you just draws me in, y'know? Like a moth to a flame."

Bo's hand slides higher up her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet you're real soft, ain't ya? Real delicate and sweet." His voice is a low growl, sending shivers down her spine. His eyes gleam with a dark promise. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." Bo stands up abruptly, towering over (Y/n). He extends a hand to her, palm up, an invitation and a challenge. "Whaddya say, sugar? You game?"

"Why are you so obsessed with the idea of sleeping with me?" She wasn't angry, nor crepped out. If anything, she was slightly annoyed. Questioning his horny mind. Bo chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that seems to rumble up from his chest. He leans back against the workbench, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Obsessed? Now that's a strong word, darlin'. I prefer to think of it as... appreciatin' the finer things in life." His eyes rove over (Y/n)'s body, lingering on her curves. "And you, sugar, are a mighty fine thing."

He pushes off the workbench and saunters over to her, his hips swaying with a predatory grace. "I ain't gonna lie to you, I want you. Bad. But I ain't the kinda man to force myself on a woman. If you tell me to back off, I will. Simple as that."

Bo reaches out and tucks a stray lock of the same hair strand that fell off her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek. "But if you're willin', I'd love to show you a real good time. I'm real skilled with my hands, if you catch my drift." He winks roguishly, a flash of white teeth in the dim light of the garage.

"So what's it gonna be, sugar? You want me to finish up your car and send you on your way? Or you want me to take you back to my place and make you feel real good?" His voice is a low, seductive purr, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy in the air between them.

"Hmm.... I'd take the car." Yeah, she didn’t take long to think over it. She dosen’t want a quick fix, nor does she want to sleep with anybody unless she knows them.

Bo's eyes flash with disappointment, but he quickly masks it with a charming smile. He steps back, giving (Y/n) some space.

"Well alright then, sugar. If that's what you want, I ain't gonna argue with you." He turns back to her car, popping the hood once more. "Give me just a few more minutes to finish up here, and you'll be on your way." As he works, Bo hums softly to himself, the same tuneless melody as before. But there's a tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there earlier.

After a few moments, he slams the hood shut and turns to face (Y/n). "There ya go, darlin'. Good as new. Just remember to keep an eye on that alternator. Might need to replace it again soon." He extends his hand to her, a gentlemanly gesture that seems at odds with his earlier advances. "It's been a pleasure doin' business with you, Miss (Y/n). You're a real class act." His gaze lingers on her a moment longer than necessary, a silent question in his eyes. But then he blinks, the moment passing, and he steps back.

"You take care now, sugar. And if you ever find yourself back in Ambrose, you just let me know. I'll be here, ready and willin' to serve." With a final wink and a tip of his hat, Bo turns and disappears into the shadows of the garage, leaving (Y/n) alone with her thoughts.

'... He's totally going to kill me, isn't he?' Right after that thought, she realised that she never got to pay him for the repair. Making her think that he had probably let her off because he found her beautiful. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to mention it. He did it for free, and she dosen’t have much money to begin with, so what is she trying to do? Be rightous? No, no... she couldn't do that with him, not today at least. She began moving in to sit back in her car and turn on the engine with a simple flip of the car keys.

As (Y/n) starts her car, the engine roars to life with a satisfying purr. She breathes a sigh of relief, grateful to be leaving this creepy place behind. But as she glances in the rearview mirror, her blood runs cold. Bo is standing in the garage doorway, his silhouette framed by the harsh sunlight behind him. His eyes bore into hers, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes her skin crawl.

He raises a hand in a mocking wave, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Y'all come back now, ya hear?" His voice carries clearly through the open window, sending a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine. As she pulls out onto the deserted road, (Y/n) can't shake the feeling that she's being watched. She grips the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with tension.

In her mind, she can still see Bo's eyes, dark and promising, filled with a dangerous desire. She knows she should have taken him up on his offer, should have played along just a little longer. Maybe then she wouldn't be feeling this sense of impending doom, like a noose tightening around her neck.

But it's too late now. She's already left, already turned down his advances. And now, she has a feeling she'll be paying the price for her foolishness. The road stretches out before her, empty and endless. (Y/n) presses down on the accelerator, desperate to put as much distance between herself and Ambrose as possible. But she knows, deep down, that she can't outrun the darkness that lurks in Bo Sinclair's heart.

Sooner or later, he'll find her. And when he does, she'll regret ever crossing paths with the twisted mechanic of Ambrose.

Author's note: This one came up in my head recently, and I'd like to think that the reader never called the police because she has no evidence. Also, it wouldn't have helped her either. If anything, she would have brought herself even more trouble.

[small-sinclair]

I Promise I'll Always Love Ya

A continuation for Take Me Instead. This IS NOT the final part. Please read that before reading this to catch up on what's going on :3

This au is inspired by @ahmnom; check out their art!

Welcomed readers: @lhhsol, @phantomcat394, @nameisrojda (thanks for giving me this idea), @akiranamio, @fluffy-little-demon, @sketchy-rosewitch, @zaras-really-dreamless

Told by Bo's POV

dad!Bo Sinclair x fem!y/n (y'all are married)

Tw: Reader's in the hospital, starting off with angsty right away, religion mentioned, past near death experiences, strong words, reader flat lines, Bo gets sedated

Enjoy! (sorry not sorry for this angst)

That night, Bo didn't sleep, and he swore never left her side. He was scared that he would lose y/n if he turned away just for water or to blink. As night fell over the hospital, some nurses were changing shifts so the night owls took over. Nurse Macy, even though she was supposed to be off, didn't live the delivery wing until Dr. Henrik told her to, and he tried to tell Bo the same thing.

"Ya'll have to kill me," Bo answered, his eyes tired and drain. He didn't eat anything all day, missing breakfast to get extra cuddle time with his wife and kids. He didn't know what went wrong? Did he hug her too tight to make her here in the hospital with their child on a breathing box? Was this his fault?

"Excuse me?"

Bo's blue eyes, drained but still dangerous, glared at the doctor. "I said ya'll have to kill me. If ya wan' me out, then ya'll hav' ta shoot me." he looked back at his wife and brushed her hair back. "Ain't leavin' my girls."

Dr. henrik let out a deep breath. "It's hospital rules--"

"Fuck the rules," Bo snapped. "An' fuck you, too, if ya thin' yer goin' to drag me outta 'er."

Nurse Macy placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder and pulled him back gently. She's dealt with a father like this before; her own son acted the same when his wife was in Mrs. Sinclair's shoes. She stepped forward and sat on the chair next to Bo.

He was kneeling by his wife the whole day, his grandmother's rosary behind her and his hand. The amount of prayers and pleads he sent up was enough to make his voice horsed and strained. He rain out of tears to shed for awhile, but when he heard her heart monitor drop dangerously low, he started crying again. He felt helpless and broken, and he hated this feeling. As long as he lives, he never wants to feel this way. But his prayers never stopped. He hasn't prayed this hard since Lester's truck flipped into the ditch during a Louisiana storm.

He was in the ICU for two days, flat-lining for the first night. Bo wanted to forget how his brother struggled to breath, to say away in his arms as the EMS came to the country road. It was all over some tourist that almost got away, but Vincent took care of them so fast before any flashing lights came. As he waited, he held his brother tightly as he could without hurting him even more, glass cutting into his legs and knees. Bo thought promising his little brother that if he lives he'll do better, be a better big brother for him, to promise to be the best and not be like his father...

"'M tired, Bo," he breathed, his eyes slightly parted. Rain dripped off Bo's curls and hit his face. "'M really tired."

"Stay awake," Bo encrouged as he looked down at his brother. He cradled him in his lap. "I-I promise I'll be betta--"

"'M sorry..." Lester was struggling now. The glass and blood and pain; it was all too much. "... I fail-failed ya."

"Ya didn't fail!"

"Bo?" Lester looked up at the rain filled skied as he breathed out in a sigh, "Do ya believe heaven'll le' me in?"

Lester died in his arms for the first time, and Bo nearly lost it. He doesn't admit to his fears or show it, but his worst fear came through: losing his family, his brothers.

Bo will never forgot how easy Lester's ribs broke as he did CPR in the flashing blue and red lights, the driver running towards Bo while the other got the AFIB from the back. They took over for Bo as police came to pull him away, Vincent taking Bo into his arms to hold him back. When the stretcher came out to put him in the back, Bo went with them, holding Lester's hand as he laid so close to death. Him dying again in the truck then coming back again showed that he was fighting, but Bo knew he was tired... so tied...

Now, Bo feels like he's living that same stormy night again, but it's with his wife and new born daughter. He hated how he couldn't save them from this pain, and he hated how he couldn't take that doctor out back and beat the shit out of him.

"Mr. Sinclair?" Nurse Macy's voice wasn't above a whisper, but it was enough for him to look over his shoulder at her. "How about we take a break?"

"Can't," he breathed, eyes tired. "Won't leave 'em."

"I didn't say anything ;bout leavin, sugar," she said, offering a sad smile. "My husband is waiting for me at the front desk, and I asked if you could come with us to dinner at the Calbur's." She looked back at his wife then at his daughter behind them. "My friends, Jackie and Coby, will be the ones to take over."

"Don't wan' men 'round 'em."

"Jackie's not a man," she reassured. "She's a mother of five. Coby is the only male, but he's, well," she made a face, "fruity... if you know what I mean."

Bo relaxed a little. He felt better if... no, wait. No.

He shakes his head. "Can't leave 'er." He looked back at his wife and squeezed her hand. "Can't live without her."

"Then let her rest," Nurse Macy insisted. "What would she want you to do?"

He clinched his teeth too hard but he left out a shaky breath. "She-she would wan' me ta make sure our kids were safe an' feed."

"And what about yourself?" She hummed.

"Y/n would wan' me to eat." He didn't know why he sounded defeated when he looked back at the old nurse then back at y/n. "She'll be mad."

"That's right," Macy agreed, but she didn't sound mean. She was speaking to him as if he was her own son, and it made him feel comfortable and safe. His mama never talked to him like this. "So, how about you come with me, we get food, and drop you off? Sound like a plan?" He didn't realize that she wasn't from the south... huh. "Afterwards, I'll be back in the morning to take over again."

Bo looked back at his daughter, who was sleeping soundly, then back at his wife. She looked so peaceful and still, her chest rising and falling ever so gently under the covers. Bo swallowed dryly and stood up. His knees were numb and sore from kneeling all day, but he didn't seem to care at this point. If he stood the whole day by her side, his knees would still feel the same. He felt weak, powerless, and he hated it. he brushed her heair back and bent down, kissing her forehead sweetly.

"Be back as soon as I c'n," he whispered by her ear. "Won't be long... I promise, darlin'." He kisses close to her ear to seal it.

Bo closed his eyes before leaving the room, whispering, "Lord, don't take 'em while I'm gone. Don't do it."

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

Just like Macy promised, Bo was right back in the hospital, but he had something else in his pocket: a pack of Reds and a green lighter. He needed a hit, something to take the stress away. he stood outside the hospital as he smoked his first cigarette in 15 months, feeling guilty that he broke his promise to y/n of smoking. He promised that once this was all over, he'll go back to quitting again. He needed good-enough lungs if he wanted to play catch with his sons and run after them. If the twins were anything like him and Vincent, they'll be running all over the place. Jasmine, his oldest, didn't run as much, but she's still curious of the outside.

He put the cigarette out in the smoking bin and went inside towards her room. Bo could feel a thunderstorm coming, and he wanted his daughter to feel safe in the room, to know that he wasn't going to let the monsters or demons get her. He'll kill everything first before that happens. But Bo wanted y/n the most. He just wanted to feel his wife in his arms again, to hear her laugh at him for being like this and to be mad that he smoked a cigarette. He wanted to hear her scold him for breaking his promise.

But he was greeted by a familiar face sitting next to her bed, holding his hand, and his body tensed. Why was Vincent here? Why was he hear with her and not with his daughter?

"Hell ya doin'?" Bo asked, his eyes looking between him and her hand. "Le' go an' head home."

Vincent shook his head, and that's when Bo noticed that he wasn't wearing his mask, his face. His free hand lifted, signing, 'You should not be alone.'

"Wha' 'bout my kid?" He took a step closer, ready to hit his brother if he answered wrong.

'Lester is at the house in Ambrose.' Vincent's brow fell as he looked down at y/n. His thumb circled over her knuckles. Vincent didn't say it but he's scared. Terrified. What will happen if he ever lost her? 'Has she waken up?'

As much as Bo didn't want to have this talk, he found himself sitting on the bed, careful not to crush her legs. Bo rested his hand over her knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "Hasn't moved or nothin'." Then he looked over at his daughter. "She's made plenty of noise," the he chuckles, saying, "Reckon she'll be a screamer."

'Oh, no,' Vincent's shoulders fell and playfully signed, 'Not another screamer.' He gave a smile when he heard the baby fuss. 'But she is cute.'

"Cutest thin' ever seen," Bo added. A thought crossed his mind, and he liked the idea. He stood up and went to the sink. He washed his hands good and through, dried, and went to his daughter's crib. She was awake, her little arms wiggling in the cotton candy pink like a cat's tail, when he picked her up. He's been so worried that he hasn't held his daughter yet! He felt like the biggest jerk. "Hey there, little sunshine."

Her eyes melted his heart. Her right eye was a shiny ocean blue, like his, and it was so bright and filled with sparkles. Her left eyes was the brightest pine tree green he's ever seen, and it chest caved in as he looked down at her. "Oh, sweet pea," he breathed as he held her over her bed, careful not to move the wires or her oxygen. "You are so beautiful."

His eyes looked up to see his wife and his soul crushed. "Wish your mama would wake," Bo hummed. "Miss her like heck." He's not going to cuss while he holds his daughter. "But 'm happy I hav' ya, sweet pea." He takes a deep breath as his eyes meet Vincent, who was trying to get a glance of the child. Bo smirked and looked back down at his daughter. "Would ya like to meet yer uncle, Vincent?"

As soon as he mentioned Vincent's name, his brother was standing on the other side of the crib, ready to look down at the baby. If she's like her siblings, she would cry at the sight of his face. All three of them cried when they first aw Vincent, but her bright eyes looked upon him without fear. Instead, her little hands reached up and grasped his hair. She cooed happily, earning a smile from both twins. How could she looked at him without fear?

Vincent didn't tough her; Bo has to tell him that it's okay. "Look at that," Bo hummed, joy filling his eyes. "Seems like she likes ya, Vinny." Vincent nodded in agreement. "Must think yer handsome or somethin'."

"... I think he's handsome."

Their eyes shot up at the new voice, and Bo could cry. He laid his daughter down gently and hurried towards y/n's side. Her eyes were glazed and tired, and Bo knew she was trying to say awake long enough.

"Y/n!" Bo was overfilled with joy as he sat on the bed close to her, leaning down to kiss all over her face and cheeks. "Darlin, yer okay!" He held her face and rested his head against her forehead. "You're okay."

A weak hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and Bo held it there. He leaned into her touch and left hurried kisses along her palm and wrist, kissing up her arm and down again.

Y/n chuckled. "Breathe for me, baby," she whispered. "Deep breaths."

"Shh, shh, honeycomb," he whispered against her skin. "Don't talk. Please--"

"'M tired, Bo," she whispers. From Behind, Vincent eye looked up at the heart monitor. He looked at Bo then back at the machine. He started towards the door to find a nurse. "I'm really tired."

"I know, doll," whispers Bo, brushing her hair back. "I know 'at." He didn't realize that he was shaking. "But I need ya to stay awake."

Her head turns to the crib, a soft smile forming. She wanted to stay long enough to hold her child, but the pain was getting too much all at once. "Take care of them?"

"Don't say that--"

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair," she breathed out, two nurses coming in the room as Vincent's hands wildly signed for help. "I love you..."

When a relaxed sigh escaped her lips, thunder broke and rain pattered against the wind. Glass might as well exploded on his face when he heard her heart monitor ringing loudly.

"No," he whispers as he felt Vincent pull him away from the bed. "No. No, no, no, no!" He's stronger than Vincent, and Vincent knows this as his grip became deathly hard annd fast as he dragged his brother out of the room. "No! Y/n, don't go! Don't go!" He didn't mean to scream her name as Vincent dragged him away, far enough for two doctors to rush in. "Don't go!" He pushed on his brother's arms. "Let me go! Let me go, Vincent!"

"No," Vincent answered, his voice raspy. "Can't do that."

"She-she needs me!" He shouted, trying like hell to be free. He wanted to run back in there and start her heart himself. He wanted to rip out his own just for hers to beat again. "I-I need her! I need her, God!" Soon, two night shift guards came to Vincent's aid to hold him back. "Let me go, now! Vincent, let me go!" He looked as the scene unfolded, his heart breaking as they wheeled out her of the room and hurried towards a surgery room. Bo wanted to kill. He wanted to taste everyone's blood on his hands, rip out their hearts and throw them away. He wanted blood. He wanted to kill God. he wanted y/n.

He felt like he was losing Lester all over again.

Bo was lowered to the ground as something pricked his neck, warm liquid shooting throughout his body. Sleepiness took over as Vincent hushed him in his arms. He held on to his brother tightly, crying in Bo's hair. Both felt their worlds falling apart over y/n, and who could blame them? She was the world to them and more. She made Ambrose better and showed them what it's like to love and to be loved.

"Don't take her, God," Bo breathed, looking up at the white ceiling. "Don't take y/n! She's mine. She ain't yours! Y/n's mine." He cried as he felt his eyes starting to close, and he begged, "Fuckin' take me! Take me instead! Take me... bastard, take me..."

Thunder rumbled over the hospital as it began to pour. Louisiana never sounded so silent before.

[mostlyghostlyy]

The feminine urge to put pathetic men in a snowglobe and shake it wildly

[adalwolfgang]

Until I Found You

Younger!Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader

Requested By: @charliedawn

Warnings: Reader is a Singer at a bar, takes place before Ambrose became deserted, Lester as a wingman, Pet Names, Slang term Yankee used, Southern Gibberish/Slang, Alcohol, Blood/Foul Language/Bar fight, Little ooc, Bo Sinclair

The local bar is a quaint little place, full of recognizable faces and a good place to have fun, not to mention it’s a great way to make money, every Saturday, you would stand on the small wooden stage singing whatever song was requested by patrons. Tonight's song choice being "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez.

You wouldn't have to be on stage until another hour, so you were given the chance to relax in a secluded section of the bar for employees only. The view was perfect for you to overlook the whole bar while staying out of view of most eyes. Your hair a makeup already prepped and. A simple vodka martini in your hand as you chatted with some of your coworkers since after your show, the bar would be closing for the day.

Your conversation is cutoff by a commotion. You and your coworkers snap your heads to the noise, a broad southern drawl reaching your ears as slurs are shouted out, along with the crash of glass and wood making an impact. A fight had broken out between a group of patrons. A tall brunette and a scrawny blonde man vs what looked to be a group of Yankees.

Your eyebrow quirks up when you listen to half the insults spitting out of one of the brunettes' mouths. With how fast he was talking and with his accent, it all sounded like gibberish. "YER EN' EGG SUCKIN' DAWG IZ WHUT YORE!" Wow....

More insults and punches are thrown at both parties as you watch the scene unfold. Soon your pissed off boss followed by security break up the fight. The Yankees' getting escorted out of the bar since they supposedly started the fight. The scrawny blonde man tries his best at holding back the raging brunette who is still sputtering insult after insult. Half of them making no sense to you or your coworkers.

After everything settles down, you watch as the duo walk to the wooden barrier that is located along the length of the bar. After finishing your drink, you check the clock mounted on one of the walls. You still had a few minutes to spare before you needed to be backstage in preparation for your show. You stand to your feet and start making your way to the bar. You rest your elbow on the bar, resting your chin in your hand. "Another martini please Dan" you ask with a cheeky smile. Dan was one of the bartenders that would sometimes give you and other coworkers a drink on the house.

He places down the glass he was cleaning before giving a small nod with a smirk. "You nervous to go on stage?" he asks as he walks over to the many options of alcohol. Grabbing a bottle of vodka and a martini glass. You shrug your shoulders, "Only thing to keep my nerves low." He finishes making your drink, sliding it over to you. "Yeah? Well, you best be careful with how much you consume. Wouldn't want you getting on stage drunk off your ass."

You just roll your eyes playfully in response, taking a sip of your drink. As you do so, you feel eyes bore into you. You look in the corner of your eye to see the brunette from earlier, sitting right next you. He quickly notices your gaze but doesn't look away. Instead, he gives a wink as he tips his glass to you, taking a swig. Your face instantly heats up as you can't help but return a small smile to him. "Aren't you the guy who was throwing those insults earlier?" you ask with a raised brow.

Now it's his turn to be embarrassed. "Ya' saw thet?"

"I did." You give a chuckle before asking, "Would you be kind enough to explain what you were sputtering at the other group? Your accent made it hard for me to understand what you were saying." He gives a small smirk before letting out a hearty laugh.

"Now whut' kind of gentlemen would ah bay tuh tell uh purdy women lahk you thet? Thet would bay gist plain rude uh meh." You can't help but smile at his choice of words. Very charismatic. "You have a nice accent."

After some more flirty banter back and forth, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see one of the guitarists. "We're on in 10 minutes." He says with an embarrassed smile, feeling bad for interrupting the conversation. You turn back to look at the man.

"It was nice chatting with you, but I need to get to work. See ya around mister" you say with a wave goodbye before following the guitarist through the crowd to backstage. Bo was about to reach out to grab your wrist, but Lester stopped him. "Ahdn't do it Bo. Ya should tawk' tuh' her afterwards. Hey, yer might git lucky" Lester mutters into his ear before patting him on the back. Bo looked gave Lester a pointed look before looking back toward your form. His eyes held yearning, but he then thought back to Lesters words before shaking his head and turning in his stool back toward the bar. He most definitely would talk with you after.

(Time skip, lights point toward the stage, everyone quieting down.)

The guitarist from earlier appears on stage as the bar goes quiet. He starts strumming on his guitar, and singing the opening to the song. "Georgia, wrap me up in all your. I want you in my arms. Oh, let me hold you. I'll never let you go again like I did. Oh, I used to say. I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, I would never fall unless it's you I fall into. I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her. I found you~"

You then walk out on stage, holding a vintage mic to your lips, "Heaven, when I held you again. How could we ever just be friends? I would rather die than let you go. Juliet to your Romeo, how I heard you say~" As you sing, you sway your body a little on stage, circling the guitarist as he strums his guitar.

Then you both join together, "I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, I would never fall unless it's you I fall into. I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her. I found you~"

Bo watches you from his seat at the bar with a slack jaw and mesmerized look, the way you capture everyone’s attention, just like a siren, and everyone in the bar is completely transfixed on you both. He notices the way the dim lights shine against your skin, making you glow as the lyrics flow so heavenly from your lips, he could watch you forever.

The song ends with a close, the guitarist singing the last part of the song. "I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, I would never fall unless it's you I fall into. I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her. I found you~"

The room falls silent before a round of applause tears through the air, and you smile. You and the guitarist bow to each other before bowing to the crowd. Not soon after, you walk off the small wooden stage. Some coworkers huddling over to congratulate you both.

(Time skip, again. Soon as almost everyone is out of the bar, except of few employees and patrons being passed out drunk.)

After getting changed out of your performance clothes, you head toward the exit, waving bye to some of your coworkers. Too say you were exhausted would be an understatement. Before you can get but only a few feet from the bar, you feel a tap on your shoulder, and someone clearing their throat. You turn around and nearly jump in surprise when a bouquet of flowers are in your face.

"Ya did purdy good up on thet' stage sweetheart."

Your eyes widen when you hear the broad southern drawl from the man at the bar. You peak over the bouquet of flowers to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You notice he is no longer wearing the mechanic suit like before. Instead, it's a black suit, with a black jacket to go along with it. His hair slicked back, except for one strand poking out. You take the flowers from him, giving them a small sniff before smiling back at him.

"Would it be rude of me to ask what these are for?"

Bo goes to answer but his words get caught in his throat. He avoids your gaze for a minute, before turning his head. You quirk a brow, following his gaze before stifling laugh. His brother was peeking out behind one of the buildings close by, trying to mouth something to Bo and gesturing for him to keep talking. Bo lets out a hard sigh before turning back to you with a polite smile. "Gist may showin' ya southern hospitality," he says before wetting his bottom lip, "Ah know thus might bay very bold uh may but...." He clears his throat, "Can ah invite ya tuh have dinner with may wun night? Thayure's thus' new restaurant in Ambrose, maeybe' we could try it together?"

"Like a date?"

Bo chuckles at your question, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up to you. "Ah mean.....Ahdn't make no protest."

You give a laugh. Bo couldn't help but swoon right then a there. He gets so caught up in his head, he almost trips forward, quickly catching himself and standing up quickly. "How about I meet you back here tomorrow night? Same time. After my show, we can go to this new restaurant." Bo's face lights up at your proposal. "Alright! Same tahm', tuhmorrow' night. Got it." He nods his head in agreement. He turns to go back toward his brother but stops in his tracks before turning back to you. He softly takes your hand in his, pressing a quick kiss to it before walking backwards then spinning around, walking back to his brother. He gives Lester a big smile before doing a small jump in victory to you saying yes.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow night.

[rreskk]

ooh how about Trev x reader where the crew doesn’t believe they’re actually a thing, until they end up getting caught together trying to have a quickie before a heist meetup?

---A/N: Sorry this took longer. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: The crew wondered your absence until Michael found you... In the worst situation.

TW: Smut

Michael sat there with his knees spread and arms folded. He watched Lester present the board of their upcoming heist. Franklin and the majority of the group remained sat on the table with him, the only thing missing was two other people.

“Where are they?” Lester insisted.

“God knows,” Michael pondered, “Apparently they are a thing now.”

“You kiddin’?”

“I’m not kiddin’, Franklin. I don’t believe him.”

Lester scoffed, “Well, sucks to be her.”

“It might not even be a relationship… Just Trevor finding someone to fuck.”

“Shit, Mike, that’s low.” Franklin frowned.

Michael sighed, “I’m sorry but I’m being rational.”

“Who cares if they are a thing or not, we need them here urgently.” Panicked Lester. He was growing distressed.

“Alright, I’ll go and find them. F, stay here and Lester will tell you the whole deal. I’ll be back.” The ‘retired’ criminal raised himself from the table and left with a mission to hunt down the two suspected lovers.

-

“Trevor-“

“Shhhh,” He grinned, “They won’t hear us, sugar.”

You had your back turned to him. Trevor’s hands were buried on your hips as he breathed against your neck, exotically craving for a quick blow before seeing the others (unaware of their suspicion).

“Bend over, yeah?”

Obtaining the instructions, you leaned against the bathroom counter and whimpered when he pulled down your underwear. You saw him in the mirror. The devilish gaze in his eyes.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” Trevor praised at the sight of you.

The coolness of air abused your exposed ass. While he grazed his fingers over your figure, it edged closer to the dampness between your legs, torturing your neediness. You couldn’t be loud, you knew it. The warehouse was filled with echoes and if you were to scream his name, they’d hear it.

“Have you locked the door?” You asked with raging nerves.

Trevor whined from behind you, “Baby, stop panicking. It’s okay.”

Somehow it doesn’t feel okay. The eerie atmosphere tainted you. Trevor not being able to feel danger, he misunderstood your fear of getting caught.

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous.” A soft kiss planted against your shoulder blade before Trevor pushes himself into you.

“Fuck…” You bit your lip to refrain moaning.

He thrusted again, his hips clapping against your ass cheeks. He watched them wobble and shake due to his force, eyes hungrily wide, mouth dropped open. You gripped onto the counter and squeezed your eyes shut in ecstasy.

“Shit, Trevor… Feels so good,” You whimpered.

“Oh, yeah? Come on, sugar, I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Trevor bent forward so his chest was crashing against your back. Being so close together, you glanced at the mirror in front of you and saw him lowering his head, nibbling against your ear. The sight of Trevor thrusting into you, the reflecting of your body shaking, it was beautiful. Everything about being with him made you complete.

“Fuckin’ love you,” He whispered while maintaining eye contact through the mirror.

Suddenly, Trevor’s pace increased rapidly and you choked on forbidden moans. He studied your euphoric state through the reflection and smirked.

“Fuck, fuck-“ You whined.

“Louder, baby.”

“T-Trevor… I ca- Fuck, FUCK!”  

He was going to speak until the bathroom door opened. Trevor snapped his head round and glared.

“MICHAEL!”

You gasped, unaware he walked in.

Michael’s eyes widened in shock. He was speechless and went to close the door again but Trevor fetched his trousers and rushed after him in a pit of rage. You were left hanging over the bathroom sink with nothing but a loose shirt on.

“YOU FUCKIN’- COME BACK, MICHAEL!” You heard as their footsteps grew distant.

Then there was a crash.

“Shit,” You sighed, knowing Trevor’s probably on the warpath.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Hewo again! I love the way you write Bo! Could I have some angst with him like s/o is really sick/bad fever and Bo is super worried? Because of how sick s/o is, they sleep a lot and wakes up once or twice for medication and water. One day, s/o doesn’t wake up and sleeps all day, and it scares Bo half to death. He stays by their bedside, holding their hand, maybe cuddle, refusing to sleep/eat for a while until s/o wakes up, or until Lester takes his place for Bo to work and take care of himself. When Bo is alone in the garage, he ends up getting upset and throws/breaks things— he’s angry that s/o won’t wake up but he’s more angry that he didn’t take care of them when he first noticed s/o getting sick a couple days before all of this.

Yes! I’m gonna do a happy ending though cause yeah :3 but angsty too obviously

In Sickness and in Health: Bo Sinclair x sick!reader

Masterlist

A/N: sorry it’s short I’m still not used to writing angst, was happy I got this request so I could practice!

Warnings: Angst, Bo freak out,

You’d been in bed for days, you didn’t do much. Ate soup, went pee, slept. You showered once in the last few days, and your fever didn’t go down a bit. You’d told Bo you easily got sick and took a lot more time to recover unlike other people. This was due to your low immune system.

Of course Bo didn’t have a clear understanding of your situation until now. He’d been at your side to help with everything. If he couldn’t be there for some reason, Lester was there.

Bo lays next to your sleeping form. He sighs and buries his face into your neck and cuddles into you. Your breathing is soft. You didn’t wake up at the same time you usually did, Bo tried to carefully wake you but he couldn’t go any farther than a nudge, barely even raised his voice. He was worried but you looked peaceful. Your soft breathing pulls him into a sleep.

-

Bo wakes hours later, you still haven’t moved from your spot and Bo’s stomach drops a bit. It’s 6 pm, you haven’t gotten up to even pee yet. He pushes you slightly, but all you do is mumble and curl up. He frowns and gets up to make soup for you.

-

It’s been two days. You haven’t gotten up but your fever did break.

Bo’s been in the shop distracting himself while Lester watches over you. He fumbled with a screw driver and while trying to catch it Bo smacks his hand onto the engine of the car.

“FUCK!” He backs up and slams the hood of the car shut. He growls pushes his tool box to the floor. “Goddamnit. I’m so fucking stupid! Should’ve been better to you. You’re sick and I can’t fucking do this! Can’t live without you! I want you to feel better! I haven’t been able to function or anything. What the hell did you do to me?!” He takes the screw driver and throws it against the window, it shatters and Bo’s knees buckle.

“God, why am I attached to you? I can’t do shit without you here. Without you I’m fucking nothing I’m a goddamn mess. It’s been almost a week. I finally do some shit on my own and I can’t. I can’t go back to the way things were. I need you to get fucking better or I’m gonna lose it.” Bo mumbles. A tear falls down his face, his breath shakes, angrily he rubs his eyes causing stars to cross them. He slams his fist into the ground and lays there.

-

Your eyes flutter open, you’re groggy but are starting to feel better. “Bo?” You run your eyes to get the boogers out. He’s not there. You shrug and get yourself up from bed. You pee and walk downstairs to get some food. You grab crackers and soup and start to eat quickly.

It’s hours before Bo is back home. You took another shower and laid back down. Decided to turn on the radio to soft music and play it.

Bo walks upstairs and comes across you laying down, eyes open, wide open. Not even tired. He jumps into bed and squeezes you. You hack trying to cover your face.

“You’re awake! Holy shit!” Bo kisses you all over and you furrow your brows and laugh.

“Yeah, I told you what happens when I get sick silly. Need to rest for awhile.”

Bo looks at you and frowns.

“I-I know but you’ve been sick for a week and it worried me. A lot. You didn’t wake up for two days and it scared the hell outta me… I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Oh hun, I’ll always end up waking back up. For you okay?”

“Okay…”

You cuddle into Bo and hum.

“God I’m so happy I can finally sweat this shit out. I hate being so sick.”

“I hate you being sick too.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

If we're gonna multi may in this house, lorde says let's do it up!

just hear me out hear me out hear me out!

bo sinclair x fem!reader.

but wait wait wait!!!

featuring leslie vernon!

*holds for applause*

there is more!

have you heard lera lynn's wolf like me feat shovels and rope. because i promise it will fit!

ugh this has been such a great event! so happy you're doing something for you and everyone loves it.

Okay! So! I did it! I know Multi-May is done and over with but this has still be living in my head and I have not been able to get over it so here it is! A new and very unconventional poly ship! I hope everyone digs this, it is deff an interesting thing, pretty angst heavy but with some lighter moments and a smattering of smut, let’s get into it.

—

Rating. NSFW. Length. 4K. Bo Sinclair X FEM! AFAB! Reader FT.Leslie Vernon. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Bo And You Are In An Established Relationship. Slasher x Final Girl/Survivor Girl. Mentions Of Murder. Death. Gore. Hurt. Comfort. Cross-Over. Angst. Sex. Mild NSFW Content. Pining. Complex Feelings. Leslie Is SO Down Bad For Taylor.

—

There Is No True Substitute But God You’re Close.

—

It might have been overkill but there is no such thing as being too careful, being out of state seemed smart to him.

Leslie’s first outing had gone amazingly well, he was still riding high from the kills, the twists, from her. It went much better than he could have ever hoped, but now he had to lay low. So far it has been going well, he had this remote cabin he hung out at for a couple of weeks until he was sure that it was safe enough and then he began his celebratory post spree vacation road trip. He had some places to stop off, people to see and it was nice, being able to meet with people who were like minded, in the same industry and tell them all about how well his first foray went. Before he always talked theory but now it was backed by real life experience, he felt like he belonged, the first serious move of his career and to making a name for himself, to being taken seriously. 

The time we want to focus on however is when he had worked his way down to Louisiana, it had been a long time since he’d been here, Eugene encouraged him to take some real time while considering this career path to explore around, talk to some people in the business, be sure and Leslie was thankful for that. It affirmed to him he was making the right call, Eugene told him where to go and gave the people heads up and Leslie was pretty universally welcomed. A lot of the older people were excited, they claim so few people wanted to take up this job and do it right, the old fashioned way, the way that honoured tradition. 

This was one place he spent a decent amount of time. Coming back to Ambrose and seeing the improvement and expansion that had occurred in the few years he was absent was impressive. He arrived mid-day, Lester met him outside of town, greeted him as friendly as ever and there was much excited talking on the way in, Lester telling Leslie, “I got so many new knives, I gotta show you-”

“Hell yeah man, sounds great I can’t wait to see them!” He was always down to talk tools of the trade and Lester said, “And tomorrow morning fore’ the heat gets too bad an’ it starts to smell too much we can visit the gore pit.”

“You have a gore pit now?!”

“We do!” Lester said excitedly and Leslie asked, “Business that good down here?”

“So good! I mean the town is almos’ done, that’s what Bo says anyway-” Lester admitted and Leslie gaped, “Already? God, I know there are three of you but that turnaround time is amazing. What are you gonna do when it’s all done?”

Lester hummed, hands sliding into his pockets as he considered the question, “Honest? I dunno. This been our whole lives for years now, weird to think bout what’ll be like when s’ all done.”

“Well I am sure you guys will all figure it out, you’re resourceful!” Leslie assured as he clapped Lester on the back and he smiled, “Yeah yer right, we’ll be alright.” 

Soon they were at the gas station and Bo was coming out to greet him, wiping his hands on a dirty rag before a firm handshake was exchanged. “Leslie, how are you?”

“Great, so great.” He assured and Bo asked, “Drive down was alright?”

“Oh yeah, no trouble at all. Where’s ol’ Vin at?” Leslie asked as he released his hand and Bo scoffed, “In the workshop, don’t worry he’s excited to see you, he’s gonna come out in time for dinner.” 

Leslie was excited for dinner, last time he was down they treated him to some pretty good BBQ, it was going to be great. Bo and Lester proceed to show Leslie around town, updating him on changes and showing off all the new procedures, the developments and wax figures. 

It was a great afternoon Leslie was so glad he made the effort to get down here, and as the sun had begun to go down but the sticky heat remained, on the way out of the movie theatre Leslie asked, “Should we go get on cooking dinner?”

“Oh no need, should be just about ready.” Bo said easily and Leslie was confused, “What is Vin already cooking or something?” 

“Nope. You’ll see.” Bo said with a grin that made Leslie just a touch concerned but he didn’t pursue it further, the answer became clear once they had gotten his bag back from where they left it at the station and gotten to the house. 

“We made up the same room you had last time.” Bo told him as he started to come inside and Leslie followed, Lester bringing up the rear and there was a call from the kitchen asking, “Hello?”

“Heya, we’re back.” Bo responds and there is a series of excited footsteps from the kitchen into the living room and Leslie sees you for the first time. Barefoot and apron on, dish towel over our shoulder you asked with a point, “Is this him?”

“Yes this is the guy I was tellin’ you all about, this is our guest, Leslie.” You came forward and shook his hand, “Pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much!” 

Leslie returned the gesture before reluctantly pulling his hand away, “I wish I could say the same, this one hasn’t mentioned you.”

“You haven’t? Man, what am I gonna do with you?”  You ask as you snatched the dish towel off your shoulder and playfully swatted at Bo who waved you off with a scoff. There is a beeping coming from the kitchen and you say, “Sorry, excuse me, that’s the oven.” You turn and flit back off to the kitchen and Leslie turned and asked, “Who is that?” 

The story came out over the dinner you made. Leslie was regaled how you came to town alone, the chase, the hunt, the fight that turned to more than that, all of the struggle and eventually Bo deciding to keep you for a while before killing you off. That never happened. No instead you stayed, you fell and that was that. Leslie could not believe it. Of course he knew about Eugene and Jamie’s history, he loved them but he thought they might have been an outlier but to see it was possible for someone else? It’s everything. 

Listening to the stories, seeing how you held Bo’s hand and looked at him, made him ache. He can see it so clearly from how you both talked about it, the initial meeting, the chase, the scuffle, my God. He loves this for you both but seeing it? It makes part of him hurt. 

He thinks of Taylor. You remind him of her.

He tries to push that down and instead tries to focus on the rest of the conversation, how nice it is to be back here. 

You were cleaning up the dishes, bringing them to the sink and Leslie was currently saying, “Thank you so much, it was amazing.”

“Oh good! M’ glad, I spent so long in the kitchen today.” You admit and he asks, “What? For me?”

“Yeah! I knew this was a big deal, is it so wrong I wanted to impress you just a bit?” You asked in a joking tone and Leslie asked Bo, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothin’ that wasn’t true.” 

Leslie was unconvinced and turned to Vincent who signed without Leslie even having to ask the question, as opposed to responding directly he posed this, “Where’d all that confidence go?”

“Yeah, we don’t just hang round with anybody.” Lester insisted and Bo scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah we’re really picky about the company we keep.” 

“You joke but 99% of the people who roll through here get gutted and waxed, in that order.”  You say that so casually, so easily. It then comes out that you don’t just tolerate what happens, you help with the cause, luring, lying, cleaning up, whatever is needed. What a fucking dream were you. 

To have a quality survivor girl who not only makes the change but becomes part of the business? Unthinkable but fantastic that it is possible.

The rest of that evening you made yourself scarce, you were tired and went to bed early with promises of spending more time with everyone tomorrow. Leslie and the boys have dessert and drinks on the porch and he tries to keep you out of his mind, instead trying to focus on what Vincent was trying to tell him about the latest art project. 

The next morning he comes downstairs to find coffee brewed up and wrapped breakfast sandwiches, Lester was already in the kitchen and when questioned Lester said, “S’ Tuesday, she’s out workin’ on her art but she makes us all breakfast to go.” 

You were an artist too? I mean it made sense you would have some sort of creative outlet but hearing it confirmed was a horse of a different colour. It was sweet you thought of Bo’s brothers but even more so that you thought of him, a relative stranger, you were very trusting of him all things considered. 

This road trip was to celebrate, it was to get out of state, it was to keep things low key but also to try and forget a bit about her. Taylor was just so upset when everything came out, he was trying to keep his spirits up about their future but who knows what might happen, what if getting his own relationship shift like Eugene and Jamie or you and Bo had was an impossibility with her? He thought the distance would help and yet here you were reminding him of everything he really craves.

He goes out to the gore pit and does some work with Lester and loses himself a little in getting shown Lester’s extensive knife collection. 

Leslie hangs around town with the boys but with you too, he starts getting closer to you and the more he sees you and Bo are together he wants and he aches. 

He spends time with Vincent, getting shown the updated process of how he makes the figures as well, “So some of them are still technically alive when you coat them?” Vincent nodded and Leslie stood up from his crouching position with ample praise, “You sadistic bastard I love that!” 

Leslie was also treated to seeing the other ways Vincent expresses himself, the paintings in particular are amazing. Leslie goes on drives with Lester talking up a storm and adds to the pit, he actually has to consider fighting off the urge to gag when they went by in the late afternoon, “Christ on a bike Lester! How do you stand it?” To which Lester laughed and responded, “C’mon Les, taint that bad.” Leslie fires back, “Yeah says you.”

He spends time in the gas station with Bo, fucking around with cars, listening to music too loudly and touring around the basement as well as sharing stories. “Sooo you’ve gotten into photography?”

“Vincent has the sculptures and paintings, Lester has his taxidermy and wood carving, I take pictures.” Bo said with a casual shrug. Everyone is so creative here, it makes Leslie want to work more on his next outing, bringing in more creativity to his work couldn’t hurt. 

Leslie feels bad that you are putting in so much work with him around so he insists he helps out with cooking. He asks about your art while making lunch, he is genuinely interested and impressed to learn what you like to do and the answer is almost everything. Painting and doll making and sewing, some gardening, you dabbled in so many things to help fill your days and satisfy your creative urges. 

“How do you do it?” He asked as you both were deep in a sandwich assembly line, him taking out slices of bread and putting on the spreads and you building the rest from there, and you questioned him, “Do what?”

“All of that. Have the time and energy for pursuing so many different creative things?” 

You laughed, closing the current sandwich before telling him, “I have the energy and ability and fuck, the time, because of the guys. Being here affords me the opportunities to do all this. I have no one to answer to. I can just do whatever I want to, no schedule. Somedays I paint for hours, others I do not a damn thing and camp out on the couch, it’s great.” 

It did sound great, you had a full and well rounded life here. He listened as you expounded further and it made his little problem a whole lot worse. You spoke about the inherent drive to create that you felt, this sort of pulling that came from deep inside that made you want to take nothing and make something. He understood that, related to it, the talk endeared you further to him. 

“I love that.” He said quietly and you say, “I can tell.” 

It’s quiet for a moment before you ask, “I assume you do what you do for similar reasons?”

“You want to know?” 

“Uh duh-doy Vernon. Spill.” And so the rest of lunch prep and the meal itself was spent with him pouring his heart out, telling you all about why he did what he did, why he wanted it, what motivated him and it felt good. You seemed to genuinely listen, really give a fuck, you asked questions and engaged openly and by the time he was done you understood. You gave praise, commented and as he learns more and more you don't shy away from blood, guts or gore and that was so attractive. He wonders how much exposure therapy it took for you to get to that point.

“Oh I get it now.” 

“Get what?” He asked, “I get why you look at me like that now. You are thinking about her.” 

Shit. He focused so much on talking about her and in usual Leslie fashion when excited about a particular something he cannot contain himself, it is hard to hide his emotions at the best of times but when it came to her? It seems impossible. He tries to veer, to lie, “What? I don’t look at you any particular way.” 

You give him an unimpressed look, mouth a flat line and he cuts in again, “What?!”

Your hand reaches out and takes his as you look in his eyes and say, “Les. You are…A very smart, passionate, capable guy. You are gonna have some fantastic days ahead and hopefully a long and successful career but you need to work on your lying skills.”

“I can lie! I lie all the time!” He insists and you scoff, “Not about her. I dunno if you can about how you clearly feel about Taylor Gentry.”

He knows you are right. Instead he says as he looks away, “Even if I do look at her in any particular way, I don’t think I look at you like that, it’s ridiculous because you…You aren’t her and I know that.” 

You roll your eyes and drop his hand, “See I just complimented you and said you were smart but you make me regret it when you say shit like that.”

“Elaborate.” He asks and you say, “I know I’m not her, you know that I’m not her, that isn’t what is important. The idea is that I remind you of her and that is enough when the wounds are so fresh and so deep” 

How did you see right through him? Your level of observation is nuts. “You make me sound pathetic.” 

“Hardly. You are many things Leslie but pathetic is not chief among them, trust me. I’m not mad, I’m not upset, I think it’s understandable and a little sweet.” 

He wasn’t expecting that, nor was he expecting what happened next, you got up and he thought it was going to be you collecting the lunch dishes and instead you are sliding into his lap. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Something I think you need.” Your arms loop around his neck, hands crossed at the wrists behind his head and his mind was reeling, “What do you think I need?”

“A distraction, an outlet, whatever you want to call it.” You said simply and he asked, “What about Bo?”

“This was his idea.” 

“What?” 

“He has eyes and ears too Les. He hears how you talk and sees how you look. We talked about it and it’s okay.” You shrug and then add on, “And it isn’t like he and I are tied down to just each other. The photo wall in the basement hasn’t stopped getting bigger since I came to town.” 

“And that’s…That’s fine with you both?” He asks and you tell him, “Completely. He likes the aftermath.” 

You don’t need to say the word “reclamation” but you don’t have to, he can see it as if it were painted all over your face. He is still thinking much too hard and you take advantage of that, you lean in, kiss him and it is like his brain turns off, instinct takes over instead and he returns it. 

It feels wrong but right, you aren’t her but you are close enough for now, he touches, hands wander and he feels greedy as he drinks you in. He’s been so consumed with work for so long. When was the last time he was with anyone in this kind of way? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. 

It’s rushed, clothes are hardly removed, mostly just pushed down or pulled aside enough to facilitate and satisfy the immediate urge and need you had stirred up in each other. He is caught between it all, in taking you in, enjoying this and you for what it is and you are but still part of him is with her, just as it always is. You know this and you don’t mind, you are getting your own enjoyment out of it, you aren’t totally selfless in this. Sureit is helping him but the strong hand around your throat as he fucks up into you, opposite hand on your hip, fingers caught between the space where skirt and shirt, blunt nails digging into tender flesh as he is panting is very, very much for you. 

He is left a bit dazed when it’s over. You tell him that the others are probably wondering where their lunch is, you tell him to hang out here and on slightly unsteady legs you are off to go deliver Bo the food he helped you make. 

Leslie is out of the kitchen and nowhere to be found when you came back, you expected that. He needed time to himself to figure this out. 

Trying to make sense of all of this is one of the hardest things and after trying to figure it out for a few hours he ends up at the gas station and talking with Bo. “Hey there he is, havin’ a good day?”

The shit eating grin combined with the knowing look communicates that you told him already. The conversation is brief but it gets the point across. “S’ fine. Really. I trust you, s’ good for her.” 

It is crazy what finding the right person and relationship can do for a person, he seemed to secure.

In between times with the boys he is with you. There are highs, being wrapped up in you, hot and needy, passionate, and times of lows, self hatred, angst, pain. He can’t bring himself to stop, he will tell himself to give this up but then you give him one of those looks where he ends up with you bent over the kitchen table while the roast for dinner is finishing in the oven. 

He stretches his stay by another week but eventually he has to go. He knows he does when he has the briefest thought about running away with you and having you to himself but it is quickly forgotten. He could never betray Bo like that, he knows he is some fun on the side, not serious, you don’t want him like that and he is sure he doesn’t want you like that either, not really. It’s different with him and more than that, he wants what you and Bo have, what Jaime and Eugene have. 

He wasn’t the whole package. He wants the investment, the history, all of it, he wants the complex relationship from slasher and survivor to a more equal and level playing field of partners. He hasn’t given up on Taylor and honestly all of this with you has reaffirmed that for him, he can still get her, he just has to try harder. He is saddened for how long it might take to get there but ultimately he is better and emboldened for the experience. 

He really revels in the last time he has you the night before he goes to leave. He is incredibly selfish, the living room is dark, he can’t see your face, he is rough and almost as if you can sense it, when he starts to feel just a bit bad you gasp out, “S’ okay. Take it out on me.” 

He does. Who knows the next time he will be with anyone, or if he will ever be with you again, if he will ever truly get to have Taylor the way he wants. It bleeds from rough to much more than that, his face buried in your neck, arms around you, fucking you the way he is praying to whatever messed up God might be listening in that he hopes to do to her one day. You know what it is, it’s a little too close, a little too intimate, you give into the fantasy and allow it to happen without commenting on it. When it’s over and your shared breathing has returned to normal, when the sweat has dried, you get up saying, “Should get to bed, you got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“Yeah. I’ll be up in a minute.” 

He heads up five minutes after you do. Your bedroom door is closed. He stares at it for a minute before retreating to his own room that is already packed up.

Lester gifted him a knife, Vincent had made a small figure of Leslie in his slasher gear and Bo handed over a CD that Leslie from a band Bo introduced him to during his stay that he ended up loving. You gave him some packed food, you refilled the cooler that he brought and told him to, “Drive safe, have a good rest of the journey. It was so great getting to know you, I hope you’ll be back some time.”

“I intend to, promise.” He admits and once the van was loaded up and about to leave he leaned out the window and asked just Bo who was seeing him off, “Are you two gonna be okay?”

“What? Cuz of what happened between you two?” He laughs, “Yeah, we’ll be alright. Thanks for the concern but s’ not needed.” 

“You are like, so, so lucky, you know that right?” He asked and Bo said with a glance over his shoulder in your direction, “Yeah, M’ aware.”

“God, you’re an asshole.” Leslie sighed and Bo said, “Hey you are too, she’s got a type.” 

He has a point. When Leslie took off to go to a mostly abandoned summer camp in the same state for some camping you still lingered on his mind, he was sure, if the arraignment extended or not he’d be back to Ambrose sometime in the future. 

[marceltheshellwithflipflopson]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag @becomethesun <3<3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

allegedly 46,015, but 5,569 of those words were technically written by @freetobeyouandmichi-me in our shared au! (love ya)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

the last of us

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. cold is the water

2. buckets of rain / shelter from the storm

3. you love me so hard and i still can't sleep

4. matchbox

5. patron saints

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES when @toointojoelmiller said ao3 comments were better than drugs she was RIGHT! but fr they make me giddy every time, even if it's just a singular emoji or a bunch of exclamation points

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

maybe creature fear? just because it's so early days joel and ellie, so there's no warm and fuzzies to be had anywhere. wouldn't say it's angsty though

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i'm kind of incapable of writing a sad ending, so it's a three way tie between my fluffiest children (1) buckets of rain / shelter from the storm, (2) mountain high, valley low, river wide, and (3) fisherman hats and carpet stains

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not YET thank GOD

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do not

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i haven't but i have a prospect x tlou crossover in the earliest of early stages

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

kinda yes! michi wrote Roll for Halloween Hijacks for our modern au and was kind enough to name me as co-author

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

i'm lame and most of my ships are just the ones that are already canon :/ but if i had to pick a wild card, i was oddly obsessed with peter parker/harley keener back in the marvel heyday

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i really don't want to speak this into existence, but literally any of my ideas for longfics

16. What are your writing strengths?

fluff, dialogue, authentic characters

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

underwriting, writing consistently, whump/angst

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i do not think i would be any good at this

19. First fandom you wrote for?

should i lay bare all the skeletons in my closet rn? on a tumblr that i deleted over a decade ago, i wrote a few random one-shots of fred weasley/reader, george weasley/reader, remus lupin/reader, sirius black/reader, (brace yourselves) dan howell/reader, and phil lester/reader ... what the fuck i even shipped phan so idk why i did this

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

this is a hard question but i think my home (far away). it challenged me and took me out of my comfort zone but at the same time it was some of the most fun i've ever had writing

no pressure tags! @lkay-09 @two-birds-alone-together @boopernatural (also sorry, you were probably already tagged bc of our braincell hivemind lol)